


Strawberry Cosmos

by cafemints



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Coming of Age, Explicit Language, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, OT8 feels, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Fluff, Seongjoong Centric, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Underage Smoking, black swan reference, implications of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafemints/pseuds/cafemints
Summary: "Music. Guitars. Drums. The band. They are all the things that keep them together, circulating around them like orbits again and again.However, sometimes, orbits can crash against each other, too."Park Seonghwa has had his first death. Fortunately, a high school rock band that goes by the nameStrawberry Cosmosbreathes him back to life.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 57
Kudos: 226





	1. Intro - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please do take time to read this ♡
> 
> Hello! It's eri. If you follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/hwacafes), I'm guessing you already know this is coming! As the CEO of Band ATEEZ, I'm really happy and excited for this work. But, before proceeding, please do read the ff!
> 
> 1.This is a(an unexpected) collab work with my lovely friends who volunteered themselves to help me bring band!ateez to life through all forms of art - [Lai](https://twitter.com/ninety8tz), [Sel](https://twitter.com/98hwas), and [Lucie](https://twitter.com/http9293). They are my amazing friends, the artists, illustrators, designers, beta reader, and managers of Band Ateez who are of BIG HELP to me as I work on this fic. I appreciate them so much for working hard with me, for supporting me, and for making this concept even more alive. I love them so much.
> 
> 2\. Of course, this is a work of fiction only, brought to life through every form of art. Every scene mentioned in this fic are extracts of our imaginations and daydreams. Every person mentioned is simply to fill in the characters.
> 
> 3\. Please do take note of the tags! Nevertheless, I will be putting warnings beforehand if a chapter holds such content.
> 
> 4\. This is a HUGE challenge for me as I have never finished a chaptered fic before. But, with all the plans and ideas shared with me by my amazing friends, rest assured that this fic will be finished til the end! We will do our best to update weekly every Friday (KST). For the updates and notices, please follow the [band's official account](https://twitter.com/strwbrrycosmos) on Twitter! (Cue notices, updates, fanarts, edits, and roleplays!)
> 
> 5\. For feedbacks on Twitter, do tag @strwbrrycosmos so we (and the band) can see them!
> 
> Thank you so much ♡

It’s funny how things work, honestly, or maybe, amusing is the word.

It’s amusing how one thing in particular, which you thought you fully comprehended already, can actually still be so much more in the end. Everything has its own aspects and some of them are still raw, unpolished. However, in some cases, theirs happen to be full of bursting surprises.

Like a caterpillar, you once thought to be uselessly crawling and creeping on a cold, damp floor, but as that caterpillar goes through major changes the middle schoolers would be proud to call metamorphosis, it eventually becomes a butterfly - something that always catches everyone’s eyes when it flies by.

And just like _him._

No one would have expected anything big from a quiet dark-haired boy. No one would have thought there would be something to look forward to in him. Everyone in his class had thought he was as simple as a caterpillar, slowly creeping in the corner of the room, letting himself get lost in the autumn sky rather than the chaos that was always occuring in the class. No one had ever glanced at him, even though they should have right after he’d said the words.

The first day of freshman year and the days following were the beginning of surprises for Hongjoong on the other hand. A major change. A metamorphosis. 

It was the day he had caught a butterfly.


	2. Come As You Are - Nirvana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I heard we have a new classmate,” Mingi says in a hopeful tone, but his best friend, Hongjoong, could not be more uninterested. He simply doesn’t know what’s more of there to come.
> 
> **  
> _01 Come As You Are - Nirvana_  
> **
> 
> ✩ - Hongjoong  
> ☾ - Seonghwa

✩ 

Mondays are boring, but the first days of freshman years are always and always exceptionally infuriating.

Hongjoong sighs, exasperated. He sits quietly on his chair, right by the corner at the back of the room, his chin resting atop his palm. As usual, he simply watches the time go by, tick and tock; he waits for the bell to ring, an indication that their homeroom teacher should arrive soon.

First days should always hold new things and Hongjoong always expects one or a few more. He expects new systems and perhaps new rules and regulations that could potentially stop him from dying his hair red. He would expect new learnings, but he isn’t really that type of student. What he anticipates the most would be new and exciting school events - whole new areas for him to share and to discover more on what he can do.

Guitars. Music. Bands. That’s what he can do and that’s what he _loves_ to do. Ever since he was littler than he already is, the fiery passion he has sparkling in his eyes when his fingers press on the guitar strings had never burned out. And even when he watches videos of his favorite bands and replays them until he’s satisfied, it never does and he doesn’t think it ever will.

He thinks family has something to do with it, like it has been for every other kid. His dad was the drummer in a high-school band and he might have been lucky because his mom was the vocalist of the same band, too.

When his other relatives found out about Hongjoong and his dearest love for guitars and just bands in general, they joked (or plainly stated) about how he completely got it from his parents. Although, they weren’t exactly wrong. But Hongjoong has always had this one wish on each of his birthdays: he wishes to one day be a band member like his parents, and he sees this as somewhat hereditary, something he could inherit. And the wish, sadly, has yet to come true.

Sure, he has tried being in a few bands but he was so young. Like every youngster out there, there could be many other possibilities ahead of them.

And sure, he does have a best friend who’s named Mingi and who plays the bass and is exceptionally good at it, Hongjoong has to admit. But then again, there would be no drums nor a singer. It would be incomplete.

So, Hongjoong quietly sits on his chair and watches the time tick by slowly. He waits for the homeroom teacher to arrive and maybe for his birthday wish to come true.

“Hey.”

Hongjoong only looks away from the clock when he hears Mingi call. He turns his head to look in the direction of where Mingi sits in the row before him, straddling the chair and hands gripping on the backrest. Hongjoong doesn’t know why he always does this whenever he calls him. He knows it’s hard to get out of it anyway.

“I heard we have a new classmate,” Mingi says with a rather excited smile up on his face.

“Where did you get this info?” Hongjoong asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeji, of course,” he laughs, then proceeds to tell him about the new classmate Hongjoong could not even care less about.

New classmates are always one of the things people look forward to, and Hongjoong never understood why. He doesn’t get the excitement and the need to do research on the new students that they’ll eventually meet anyway. And to Hongjoong, it’s weird and perhaps a little creepy. He kind of feels sorry for the new boy who’s moved from Jinju to Seoul only to be the talk of the class on the very first day.

“San and Yeosang also told me there are two new boys in 14-2.”

Hongjoong takes this as a cue for him to roll his eyes at his friend and sigh, “Mingi, no offense, but I don’t really care about these people.”

Mingi laughs and extends his arm out to ruffle Hongjoong’s dark hair. “I’m saying one of them could be a potential band member. I’m helping you out with your stupid birthday wish.”

“Okay. So,” Hongjoong challenges, crossing his arms across his chest before he says, “Has anyone said about them being able to play anything?”

The friend pauses for a while, his index finger raised up as he thinks, before, in the end, he still ends up saying, “No.”

Hongjoong only chuckles at him. He somehow finds it amusing how he has a best friend who shares the same passion as him and that is so willing to be in a band someday soon, too. They have been the best of friends since the third grade and music has always been the top talk in their little world.

Three years later and Hongjoong can only smile at the fact that they still have never changed. They still talk about the same bands and the new ones they have recently discovered, share earphones, listen to them together, sometimes play the guitar together, and even sing along together even though they know between themselves that they are not that good at singing. He can always take comfort in that. 

However, it does sadden them, too, to think about how they don’t have any band they belong to just yet.

“But,” Mingi immediately adds after a short while, “What are the chances? They could be, right? Billions of people in the world, at least a hundred thousands of them play instruments.”

Hongjoong shakes his head as he squints his eyes. “That’s a very bad ratio, Mingi.”

“How about we have a bet?”

Interested, Hongjoong raises his eyebrows at the word. “Bet?”

“Favorite vinyl to who wins. I vote on new classmate being a potential band member,” Mingi says in a challenging tone, extending his hand out for a hand shake. Hongjoong stops and blinks to think for a while, mostly about the empty state of his wallet at the moment.

But then again, how could he possibly lose?

“Nirvana.” Hongjoong then holds Mingi’s hand.

“Arctic Monkeys.” And Mingi shakes the other’s hand.

There goes a deal for Hongjoong to lose.

All the playing and loud gossiping come to a halt the very moment their unfamiliar homeroom teacher comes in with the said new boy following after. All climb back to their seats the minute the teacher stands up front, the boy by her side. There may be few whispers about the boy that Hongjoong is sure are all just from the gossip Yeji has managed to spread around the room. But Hongjoong is thankful they are doing their best in toning it down while the teacher speaks.

“14-1, you have a new classmate,” she says before she turns to the dark-haired boy in a simple black shirt and jeans. Quite taller than Hongjoong if he must admit. Eyes like those of a tiger, and reigned by thick brows. “Please do introduce yourself.”

The new boy clears his throat. It sounds deep, one that could keep the whole class quiet, which is not so surprising considering his aura. 

“Park Seonghwa. 14. From Jinju.” He keeps it short and simple, yet enough to confirm the gossip. Hongjoong smiles to himself proudly because - yet again - he is right about how unnecessary the research is on new students.

Mingi has a proud smile on his face, too. He turns around to face Hongjoong and mouths, “I told you so.” Hongjoong only rolls his eyes.

“Tell us a little something about yourself.”

The two best friends listen intently at this time, anticipating the words they want to hear; though different, it’s still all the same in the end. It’s always about the possibility of this dark-haired, new boy as a potential band member that could perhaps, _maybe,_ have Hongjoong’s birthday wishes come true.

The boy who goes by the name Park Seonghwa hums in thought, his eyes roaming around the floor. Then, with a distinct accent, he states, “I can sing,” he nods in thought, “and play the guitar.”

There goes the non-existent 40,000 won, out of Hongjoong’s empty wallet.

Mingi cheers loudly and clasps his hands together, grabbing the attention of everyone in the class including the new boy himself, but he seemingly cannot care less. He cares more about getting his new Arctic Monkeys vinyl from his best friend’s pocket money and - of course - teasing him by turning around on his seat and sticking his tongue out between his lips.

Hongjoong glares at him, not even caring to warn him about how the whole class’s attention is on him. He only smirks when the teacher herself calls for him.

“Song Mingi,” she says and Mingi is fast to turn around, causing everyone in the class to burst into light laughter, “We have a problem over there?”

Abruptly, Mingi stands up from his seat in shock, eyes wide and round. “No, Ma’am. Just-” he shrugs awkwardly, fingers picking on the white paint of his arm chair, “Just happy to know he can play the guitar. ‘Cause I can, too!” he says, honest, “And my best friend here, too.” The said best friend slaps a palm over his own face. 

The teacher, though, through her half moon-shaped glasses, glances at him, puzzled. “Pipe it down, then.”

Mingi nods. “Sorry, Ma’am,” he mutters. He turns to Hongjoong again to make a mocking face, the latter trying his best to stifle his laugh.

“And I think I have a problem with your hair,” she suddenly adds as soon as Mingi sits back down. He throws a hand over his long hair, parted nearly in half and ends reaching the tips of his ears. He purses his lips into a thin line. It’s the most apologetic look he could do.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, still has his chin resting atop his palm, a hand over his mouth as he tries his best not to laugh too loud over the series of misfortunate events Mingi has already had just during the first hour of the first day. He doesn’t even flinch when Mingi shifts around again to glare at him, and for sometime mouthing, “I already hate this teacher.” Hongjoong only laughs and nods.

The dark-haired boy is eventually guided to his new seat - right by the opposite corner at the back of the room, right next to the window where he could see the spring sky. And that’s where he has spent most of the time the whole day. Sitting quietly unnoticed on the same spot, sometimes humming as he watches the clouds come and go.

And clouds do come and go as fast like the time (which Hongjoong is obsessed with when in school) ticks by when it’s not observed. The bell rings all of a sudden before Hongjoong even realizes that it’s already his favorite time of his every weekday - dismissal.

It’s already dark outside when the Park Seonghwa walks past Hongjoong and Mingi in their corner and out through the classroom door, catching both of their attention and ringing somewhat a bell for Mingi.

“So?” Mingi flashes Hongjoong a smile as he watches the latter squeeze his books into his black backpack.

He looks at him with furrowed brows only for him to be responded with raised ones. He throws a strap over his shoulder as he asks, “So what?”

Mingi follows Hongjoong out through the door, heading to the other classroom where their other friends are supposed to be. “Are we getting him?”

“Who?” he questions, suddenly dumbfounded.

“Who else?”

“Can’t you be clearer?”

“I forgot his name.”

Hongjoong sighs as he leans against the door frame, supposedly waiting for San and Yeosang, but is now face to face with his vague best friend. “Park Seonghwa?” Hongjoong says in a questioning manner.

But Mingi sends him what seems like a teasing smirk as he says, “Should I be surprised that you can remember?”

“And _what_ are you implying?” He glares at the younger as he hopes he would finally stop. Hongjoong is sometimes so fed up with Mingi constantly teasing him with one person to another and then to another, as if he hasn't hinted yet that he is hardly interested in people. He hopes someday Mingi gets that.

His friend laughs squeakily, maybe finding it amusing how easy it is to annoy the hell out of Hongjoong. “I’m saying we should get him! Form a band! Nothing more than that!” Mingi suggests, waving his hands around for a bigger effect.

“Eh.” Hongjoong shrugs. “How much do I bet he can only play a little? Maybe just a few and well-known Nirvana songs.” 

“How can you even speculate just from a second of him talking?”

Hongjoong scoffs to a prideful smirk. “I’m a guitarist. I know who’s good and who isn’t just by looking.”

“Psh,” Mingi dismisses, flipping a strand of hair over his eyes, “Whatever. Nirvana vinyl for you if he’s not good.”

Mingi extends another hand out, but only for Hongjoong to slap it away. “No. Not anymore,” he grunts, still upset over his loss from earlier today.

“What’s up?” A bright voice greets, an obvious attempt to sound cool. By this, Hongjoong already knows it’s San coming towards them with Yeosang by his side. He has a hand raised for a high-five, which Mingi is the first to accept. 

Just like Mingi, he has been friends with San and Yeosang since the third grade. It was all thanks to Mingi’s loud and friendly ass that he could later find himself getting along with the two despite their lack of talent in music and such. 

At first, Hongjoong finds it hard to get along with people whom he doesn’t share interests with - and by interests he means _music,_ of course. So, he would have never seen himself being friends with someone who writes - Choi San - and someone who draws - Kang Yeosang. But it’s their constant moral support that tied the bond between them. All thanks to them Hongjoong learned to get along with whoever they could be and whatever their hobby could be.

“We have a new classmate who’s said to play the guitar, but Hongjoong has the bar way too high, he doesn’t wanna believe that he’s good enough because of his ego,” Mingi tells their friends as he points to said egoistic Hongjoong.

“It’s not my ego. It’s my intuition.”

“ _It’s my intuition,_ ” Mingi mock-repeats, seemingly his favorite thing to do nowadays.

“Then, what does your intuition say about Yunho?” San suddenly joins, hands gesturing over the tall - and Hongjoong must add again _fucking tall_ \- dark-haired guy standing next to San. He has bright, round eyes below his parted bangs and lips pursed into a thin line as soon as San mentions his name.

Hongjoong raises his brows. “What about him?”

“He plays the guitar!” San replies immediately and very, very excitedly. “And he sings!”

“Me and San went over to talk to him right away when we found out because - you know - _potential band member,_ ” Yeosang joins in, putting air quotes around his last words.

Hongjoong tries so hard to keep the smile from his face, but he does smile brightly in the end. This is the support he and Mingi always gets from their writer and artist friends and this is what always keeps them together, no matter what they do.

The tall guy named Yunho widens his eyes as he smiles (and Hongjoong suddenly feels blinded). “You guys have a band?” he asks, bright and excited, the tone of his voice maybe prompting Hongjoong’s pride to inflate.

So, Hongjoong stands straight up and crosses his arms across his chest, chin up, perhaps to make himself look somehow less short than he actually is (Mingi is doing his best not to laugh loudly at him behind his back). “Not _yet._ But,” Hongjoong nods his head, thinking, “let’s see what you can do. Maybe we can.”

“Together?” Yunho asks, now in a brighter tone.

Hongjoong nods. “We’ll see.” 

Yunho gasps, even more excited upon hearing this, and Hongjoong doesn’t understand how a gasp can sound bright, but this one sounds so, so bright.

“How about you?” Mingi turns to the boy standing quite close to Yeosang. Hongjoong almost didn’t notice him as he had been quiet the whole time they’d been talking. And he would add that maybe because he is short, too. But then again, he isn’t at the right place to say so. “Do you play anything?” Mingi politely asks.

The short boy shakes his head no as he plays with the cuffs of his purple sweater. “But, Yunho is exceptionally good. He was in a band in our former school.”

“Oh!” Mingi exclaims, quite louder than he expects to be. He turns to Hongjoong with a smile he cannot hold to himself any longer and wide eyes sparkling with hope because he thinks that maybe, Hongjoong’s birthday wishes are finally coming true. “I think we’re getting somewhere here.”

“I’ll sing whatever you play!” Yunho suggests. Hongjoong finds it warm to see a boy this excited to be in a band with people he doesn’t even know or people whose abilities he has no idea of yet. It’s a risky move, if he thinks about it. Who knows, the band he would be joining might not even be that good?

But, Hongjoong thinks, in this case, with him and Mingi by his side, Yunho doesn’t even need to be concerned at least a bit.

“Yeosang, Wooyoung and me will be here for support, as always!” San says cheerfully as he places his arms around Yeosang and the short boy, whose name apparently is Wooyoung, as Hongjoong learns. He smiles at them and scratches the back of his head, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to show them that he is really thankful.

Mingi sighs satisfied as soon as they start walking through the hallways and out of the campus. “We’re still lacking some instruments, though,” he tells Hongjoong with a playful smirk up on his face.

“Why don’t you ask your new classmate? He seems pretty cool,” San suggests, suddenly peeking over their shoulders that has almost caught Hongjoong off-guard.

Hongjoong shakes his head with a crooked smile. “I’m so sure he only knows how to play, like, I don’t know- Come As You Are? Smells Like Teen Spirit?” he scoffs. He doesn’t know how and why either, but he knows to himself he is never wrong with his own guts about a person. That Park Seonghwa should not be anything special to be an exception from it.

Little does he know how wrong he is.

✩ 

The moment he sees Wooyoung screaming is enough of a hint for him to know that his intuitions, the ones from the first day of freshman year, are and will always be oh so wrong.

It’s when the six friends, who eventually got comfortable with each other, all gather up in the school’s music room. It’s where the original four always spent their time after class when they have run out of pocket money to waste on convenience store chips and ice cream. Now, as many school days have passed by, Yunho and Wooyoung have a home in the music room, too.

Especially Wooyoung. The first time Hongjoong sees him, he is this quiet, fellow short boy in a purple sweater standing close to Yeosang or to Yunho as if he is scared of the dear world. Hongjoong even remembers himself finding it hard to talk with him as he was afraid to make the boy uncomfortable.

But, this Wooyoung, standing in the middle of the music room, hands gripped around the microphone as he screams into the never-ending void. Not caring even when Hongjoong himself tells him to stop. _God._ Hongjoong doesn’t know what his friends fed Wooyoung that he is who he is now.

Or maybe he was simply wrong about him all this time. Yunho seems unfazed by his long-time friend’s high-pitched screaming. He only laughs at him breathlessly until he falls to the floor with Mingi, as if this, all of this chaos, is completely normal.

What surprises Hongjoong as well is Yunho. The latter is rather a jaw-dropping surprise for him. 

He should’ve had heavens high expectations for this one from the very beginning. And Yunho should not have needed to practically beg to join their band. It wasn’t his place. It should have been the other way around: Mingi and Hongjoong should have knelt down and begged to have him in.

Wooyoung hadn’t lied when he had said Yunho is exceptionally good, not just in rhythm guitars, but in singing, too. He hits the notes perfectly and blends well when Hongjoong plays the guitar and Mingi plays the bass. 

And he is a good energizer. He feels the vibe of the music and spreads it across the room until everyone in the area finds themselves lost in the song. Hongjoong thinks that Yunho knows what he's doing and he thinks that there may be no better decision than to take Yunho in.

There’s this other thing, though. And this is even more surprising. It has caught Hongjoong off-guard so bad that every word he’s said agonizingly became regrets that swallow him whole.

It’s during the stupid welcoming party for the freshmen. Stupid. And if Hongjoong must say it again, it’s stupid. 

It’s one of the school events Hongjoong always looked forward to ever since middle school. And it’s one of the few chances he would get to show off what he can do. The school always encourages their students to organize a performance for the said event, whatever it could be. And Hongjoong, of course, is badly interested in band performances.

Before freshman year, he and Mingi might have sworn to each other that they will play for the welcoming party as a band. If they did, it would be like hitting two birds with one stone: one performance that could seal the promise and the same could realize his every birthday wish. 

This year, however, is of no luck, too.

“We can’t do it if there’s no drummer,” Hongjoong mutters to himself as he frustratedly runs his fingers through his hair. “We’d look like fools.”

It’s then when Mingi and Yunho sigh and groan in response, suddenly plopping down on the floor with their instruments. 

“S’okay,” Hongjoong exhales, trying his best to convince himself too, “we can probably join next year.”

The three of them (and their friends as well) then keep those tiny sparks of hope in their little palms as they sit together in the booth, praying that time would pass by quickly while apprehending this year’s welcoming party at the same time.

The school gymnasium is filled with faculty staff and teachers and a huge number of high school students in casual clothes and make-up on that Friday evening. With plastic plants and flowers as its main decor, lights of various colors, tables and chairs in white and blue cloth, Hongjoong can already tell that this isn’t his night.

They have been sitting around their little table the whole evening. Chins on their palms or picking on the fake leaves. Sometimes San starts a little game of his own that others are too bored to join. They could be doing anything only for this night to fade away as fast as it could.

It should’ve been fun. It’s all the students committee planned especially for freshmen like them. But, all Hongjoong has been doing is resent the night in his chair and overthink his missed chances as he stares and _glares_ at the stage in front of him. 

He should be there, a strap around his shoulder and hands on his pink guitar, standing in his heart-patterned polo while admiring the crowd ahead. Mingi and Yunho should be there with him, too. But, life doesn’t always go their way while it does for others.

So, they sit there and simply wait for the clock to strike 9 o’clock, just like they do when in class. They sit there while the rest of the students enjoy all those childish and boring games prepared. They sit there even when the dance club performs. And they sit there and listen while the host announces the next performer.

“I know our high school students _love_ bands so much. Don’t they?” the host says, finally grabbing Hongjoong’s attention.

“Hell yeah,” Hongjoong mutters sarcastically to himself, causing Mingi next to him to chuckle.

“So, this night!” she exclaims to the microphone, starting an anticipating silence within the crowd including Hongjoong and his friends themselves. “You are about to meet a whole new band formed by our very own high school students!”

Hongjoong sits straight up, eyebrows raised. He takes a moment for the words to sink in. _A band? From high school?_ And of course-

_Someone can play the guitar better than me?_

“You didn’t register yourselves, right?” San questions the group only to get a no and shaking heads.

“Anyone caught a gossip about this?” Mingi asks, seemingly surprised by this, too.

Their high school is not _that_ big. It’s small, close, and tight, where students, disregarding the year levels, all know each other. Even senior students know about Yeji from 14-1 being the leader of every gossip with transferees as her expertise. And even junior students know about Yeosang and his talent in art making his name first on the list in every contest. 

And of course, nearly everyone in their high school knows about Kim Hongjoong and Song Mingi and their dearest love for music, guitars, and bands, so nearly everyone in the gymnasium looks at them and expects them to be up on the stage by now.

But, it’s not them; that’s the first twist in the scenario. There’s someone else.

“Everyone, give a warm round of applause for-” the host stops, keeping the audience on their toes “-Horizon!”

And the lights on stage fluctuate, just exactly how it does before a grand show opens. Hongjoong hears the bass of the drums come in a perfect rhythm, like a beginning of a build-up right before a strum of an F-sharp-minor-chord comes in. This is usually a good technique for an introduction; it keeps the crowd looking forward to them and Hongjoong can say that they do know what they are doing. _Surprisingly._

“So-” a guy speaks to the microphone and suddenly, all the instruments come to a halt. The voice sounds deep, one that could keep the whole crowd shut.

And it sounds so familiar.

The lights stabilize right on the center, giving everyone a perfect view of the high school rookie band they are just about to encounter. There are four people - tall and intimidating in their shirts, polos, and ripped jeans. And they are all eyecatchers. They have this certain energy around them that can oddly lure people in.

And that includes Hongjoong. But, for some certain reason, he is only attracted to one.

“We are Horizon. I’m Park Seonghwa. Nice to meet you.”

That - well - is the second twist of the scenario.

“Fuck you, Kim Hongjoong. Fuck you.” Hongjoong hears Mingi curse in a whisper and through his gritted teeth. Usually, he would get his revenge, smack him on the back of his head, or punch him in the arm. But, right now, he is too stunned in his seat to do that.

“So, this is the new Jinju boy you were talking about?” Yunho turns to Mingi with round and wide eyes, to which Mingi only frowns and nods with a pout.

“Ohh,” Wooyoung teases and laughs, clapping his hands together in the process, “he is such a huge loss.”

Park Seonghwa clears his throat to the mic and holds on to the neck of his electric guitar before he says, “And this is Come As You Are by Nirvana.”

As the bassist plucks on the strings, Hongjoong’s lips tug into a grin. He looks over to Mingi and shouts at him over the music, “Fuck you, Song Mingi. Fuck you.” because (he thinks) he is right about the new boy and how he can only play a few and well-known songs by his favorite band. He is definitely right.

But, Hongjoong has missed the part where Seonghwa is undoubtedly _good._

He is amazing, actually. That’s the word he should use. Seonghwa knows every move he should do right up on the stage, the guitar not even hindering him from moving everywhere around comfortably. He would sometimes stand still, feet apart, and eyes glaring at the crowd as he sings, embodying the music within him as if _he_ himself is the music itself.

With his deep and sometimes husky voice, it is so easy for him to lure the people in, to have them all - even from the farthest corner of the gymnasium - wrapped around his fingers. He has them all admiring him the very second he speaks, plays the guitar, and the very moment he sings. He has them all hypnotized in his hands.

And even though he is becoming the center of the band, he still blends in so well with the members, not getting higher than them and definitely not lower. They all just fit, like four lost pieces of a puzzle who have now found their places.

That is where Park Seonghwa belongs, right there in the middle with his band around. That’s his place and he reigns above everything else. That’s his place and Hongjoong somehow wishes he could be in the same place as him, too.

Hongjoong is beginning to regret every word he has said. He is right about Seonghwa being able to play Come As You Are. He is definitely right about that. But, he underestimated him too much. This is beyond all his expectations regarding the new, dark-haired boy from the opposite corner of the room.

“Fuck me,” Hongjoong groans, throwing a ball of crumpled tissue across their table, admitting his defeat.

“He is such a huge loss!” Yeosang exclaims, somehow finding all these upsetting twists amusing.

Yunho shrugs and turns to Hongjoong. “Even if we got him, we still wouldn’t be able to play. We have no drummer anyway.”

“Well, they have a drummer. A huge loss, too,” Wooyoung adds, joining as he points to the narrow-eyed guy behind the drums. He, too, is amazing, Hongjoong should’ve mentioned. He’s intensely focused on the song yet still managing to play around by twisting the stick between his fingers.

“That’s Jooheon. We wouldn’t be able to get him anyway. He’s a senior,” Mingi exhales, hopelessness in his tone, “It’s cool, though; how they got Seonghwa - a whole freshie _and_ a transferee - when they are, like, a few years older.”

Hongjoong hums in thought, eyes still fixed on Seonghwa. Then, he nods and squints his eyes as he says, “Yeah. Something’s not right.”

Mingi scoffs and ruffles his dark hair. “You’re just saying that because you are now J-E-L-”

“Shut up,” Hongjoong cuts him off before Mingi can even finish spelling the word. “And you spelled it wrong.”

The song comes to an end before they could even realize that it did. It seems like an hallucinating experience; like Horizon has created an imaginative space with all these people within the area, including Hongjoong and his friends themselves, and got them all into their world with only one song. The thing is, it is _just_ a cover. But, they for sure have owned it.

“Once again, we’re Horizon. Thank you. And have a great night,” Seonghwa speaks to the microphone before Jooheon the drummer hits the cymbals one more time. 

_Horizon._ What a _boring_ name for a band if you ask Hongjoong.

But, for some reason, it just fits. It is almost like it’s a name only made for these four people because they themselves are like a horizon. Everybody else in the room is now looking forward to them after that one song, after that one evening. Everybody else anticipates them now more than they do for Hongjoong and Mingi. 

As soon as Seonghwa comes down the stage and walks through the surrounding crowd and back to his shared booth with his bandmates, he has this quiet, timid energy back around him, the exact same one he always wears when he sits on the opposite corner of the classroom. It is as if he transforms to another person when up on the stage, surrounded by his bandmates. 

And that’s really cool, Hongjoong must admit.

Wooyoung sighs sharply as he leans back on his chair. He taps his fingers on the table as he says, “Perth Cobain probably smiling in his grave right now.”

Mingi gives him an alarming glare that Wooyoung is too puzzled to comprehend. But, it’s all too late as Hongjoong is already glaring at him to death. “It’s Kurt, Wooyoung. _Kurt._ Where the hell did you get the Perth?”

“Australia!” Yunho jokes, slamming on the table for exaggeration and sending the group into loud laughter before it fades to hopeless sighs again.

“I’m just trying to lift the mood. I know how you’re feeling.” Wooyoung pouts as he crosses his arms across his chest. Yunho gives him a pat on the shoulder and an apologetic smile, his eyes going rounder than they already are.

Hongjoong sighs in response and nods as he thinks, as he swears a billion more times to himself, “We will form a band. We will.”

It’s a promise. A nth more promise, desperate to fulfill his pact with 10-year-old Mingi and to grant his own birthday wishes.

In the end, since he never stops dreaming with his friends, there goes a band formed.

✩ 

“Strawberry Cosmos,” Hongjoong suggests, slamming his hand down on the floor.

They have been sitting in the music room for the past couple hours, practicing on some songs of their favorite bands and are now sitting in a circle on the floor, coming up with different names for a band. 

And after a whole lot of time of Mingi suggesting _Princesses,_ Yunho throwing in _Cool Fellaz_ , Yeosang dropping _Sailor Bois_ (“With the letter I for the Y,” he adds), and Jongho shutting him up and his “Sailor Moon agenda,” Hongjoong finally comes up with something that is - well - contemplative. 

“Why Strawberry Cosmos?” Jongho interrogates, tilting his head to the side with a puzzled frown on his face.

Hongjoong shrugs with a pout. “My hair is now red and I love stars,” he explains shortly, but as it seems, it’s not convincing enough for the band.

Jongho raises an eyebrow and even though he is a year younger than Hongjoong, the latter feels himself seeth at the end of his glare. “So, this is just about you?” he asks in a challenging tone and their other friends hoot teasingly.

If it were not Jongho talking, Hongjoong would have kicked them in the face by now. But, this is Jongho. 14. A freshman like who they used to be a year ago. And he is the drummer who Hongjoong, Mingi, and Yunho themselves practically _begged_ to join their band as soon as they found out about him and his talent in their once missing instrument - drums. 

A year ago, when Hongjoong still hated how Yeji was always quick when it comes to transferees, he had never thought he would be thanking her a year after. It was all thanks to her they found out about Jongho. As soon as they did, they literally _ran_ all the way back to 14-1 and _knelt down._

It was all worth it in the end. As cheesy as it sounds, Jongho was their last missing jewel.

“No!” Hongjoong disagrees right away, “See, I’ve always wanted to dye my hair red since I was a freshman, just like how I’ve always wanted to play my guitar in a band. So, I compared those two things. Then, ta-da! Strawberry.”

But, his friends remain silent on their spots and Jongho still has his brows furrowed over his interrogating glare. “Okay. So, how about the cosmos?”

“Hmm,” Hongjoong now hums in thought, “When I think of cosmos, orbits come to my mind. And I’d like to think there’s some sort of orbit going around the seven of us - yeah, including our friends - that keep us close,” he says, eyes sometimes roaming around the room as he looks for the word.

San then raises his hand as he says, “Question. Why not Strawberry Orbits?”

“Who would want Strawberry Orbits?” Wooyoung replies, throwing the same question back.

Then, Jongho nods after a short while as if he has decided. “Fine. It’s okay with me.”

“Thank god,” Mingi groans, throwing his head back before he jumps to his feet on the ground and screams their now band name, “Strawberry Cosmos!” Yunho then joins him, raising both of their intertwined hands together as they repeatedly chant the name around the music room.

Hongjoong smiles sneakily to himself, thinking about how his excuses for the name have worked.

With an odd feeling of contentment in his heart, he finally stands up to his feet and goes to set his pink guitar back into its case. Their time for homeroom - which they ironically spend in the music room instead - is about to end anyway, the lunch break coming soon. So, he starts to clean up, making sure their instruments would always be safe in their places before they leave.

“Hongjoong hyung,” he hears a voice call and he already knows it’s Yeosang before he even looks. 

When he turns his head from setting up Mingi’s bass, he sees Yeosang with a sketchbook raised in his hand and a sketch of what seems like a strawberry and an exact number of three orbits circling around it. Hongjoong smiles brightly.

“Is this-” he stops himself, stuck in awe as he gradually gets the book from his hand.

“I came up with a band logo while you were explaining,” Yeosang says confidently. Then, with the tip of his pencil, he points around the orbits, “The orbits are three. It’s me, Wooyoung, and San.”

“Whoa,” Hongjoong gasps, eyes going wider the more he looks at the logo. He feels a little warm in his chest and he wishes he could find the words that are just right enough for how he feels for the younger and his work, but he couldn’t. 

So, he simply gives him pats on his back and Yeosang finds this enough. “Sangie came up with a logo already!” Hongjoong announces across the room and later on, all seven of them peek over their shoulders, badly wanting to have a better look of the logo.

The room then fills in with awe and compliments, which Yeosang repels with jokes. He is obviously bad with receiving praises and that is already a well-known fact. 

To end the discomfort, Hongjoong then brings down the sketchbook as he says, “Since you are good kids today, lunch is my treat.”

It’s an impulsive move; Hongjoong himself is shocked. But, his friends are already cheering and running and yanking him into the school cafeteria. It’s probably too late to back down (and they deserve it anyway).

The school cafeteria is very crowded and that’s not surprising at all considering it’s lunch break for all high school students. There goes a long line before the buffet table and there goes almost every table occupied, only two or three left for the group of friends. 

Not wanting to waste their time any further, they hurry their way to queue. Hongjoong is the first in line, so he gets seven trays in total for him to pass to the rest of the group.

“As expected from our leader,” Mingi coos to his ear from behind as he gets a tray for himself.

Hongjoong chuckles and raises an eyebrow at him. “Who says I’m the leader?”

“You did!” Mingi exclaims, taking a step to the side as soon as the line moves. “You went from being this arrogant 14-year-old dark-haired boy to a now responsible 15-year-old strawberry boy. Being in a band does things to you, huh?” he laughs and Hongjoong finds himself laughing along, too.

“Shut up,” he snickers.

“Would you like a box of milk?” the lady behind the counter suddenly asks Hongjoong as soon as he steps to the side.

Hongjoong politely shakes his head no before he turns to Mingi again and says, “I already got what I’ve been wishing for. I wouldn’t risk losing it,” he adds.

Mingi chuckles. “As what-”

A sharp sound and echoing gasps of the crowd coming from their back cut Mingi off mid-sentence. All of them in the queue turn their heads over the shoulders to see.

“What the fuck?” Hongjoong hears himself curse under his breath.

It should be a normal lunch break on a Friday. The loudness of every voice and chaos here and there are completely not surprising at all and not even worthy of a hundred turning-heads. 

But, this one - this incident right in the middle of the cafeteria as if they badly want to be seen by everybody else - this is a huge, surprising twist of events.

“Isn’t that the Jinju boy?” Mingi asks, loud enough to ring in Hongjoong’s ears.

The Jinju boy. Park Seonghwa. The dark-haired, quiet boy who sat in the opposite corner of the room, unnoticed until he stood on a stage with a band around him. He is now standing in the middle of the cafeteria, surrounded by his same old bandmates, but now with _food_ all over his head, dripping down to his dark hair, to his face, and bits and bits of it on his once neat uniform.

Hongjoong could not think of anything else more shocking.

The cafeteria falls into an uncomfortable silence, all eyes on the poor boy with food all over his head, mouths cussing over the smirking bandmates circling around him like broken orbits, hands in their pockets as they stand rather confidently.

It baffles Hongjoong that no one even dares to get up from their seat and help. No one dares to speak up. No one dares to fight. Everybody else remains silent on their spots and simply stares, gossips running through and through their heads. 

Meanwhile, Park Seonghwa, who is once known for being amazingly good as a vocalist of a band named Horizon, is now standing rather uncomfortably, hands balled into fists, and eyes tight shut. And he can’t do anything about whatever the hell that’s going on.

And it bothers Hongjoong a lot.

He turns his head from the scene and back to the lady behind the counter. Then, he says, “Actually, I’ll get some milk.”

“Don’t get yourself involved,” Mingi mutters.

But, as he gets the box from the lady, he hands Mingi his own tray of food while he says, “Chill. I’m just going to get some milk.”

That’s what he’s said and Mingi doesn’t believe in him. His best friend can’t do anything anyway because Hongjoong is already a few meters away from the scene, a box of milk in his hand.

And everything else that follows happens so fast, all over in a blink of an eye. All Hongjoong knows is that, with full force, he throws the box of milk right at the tall guy standing close to Seonghwa. 

And before he knows it, the same guy now has milk dripping all over his uniform.

The surrounding crowd gasps. It all feels like a movie until Hongjoong realizes what he’s done. He ends up laughing, hands hovering over his mouth, and eyes going wide at the blue-haired guy.

Then, briskly, Seonghwa leaves the scene and walks past Hongjoong, catching the latter’s attention. Hongjoong then feels a hand over his shoulder as he hears Mingi say, “Hey, loser. Sorry about that. My friend has slippery hands.”

He scoffs, finding Mingi quite unbelievable. He would want to spend more time watching and laughing at how upset the bandmate looks in his milk-stained uniform, but Mingi’s already pulling him out of the cafeteria and to the comfort room nearby where they have found Seonghwa.

The small space they call a comfort room is in quite a mess with all the tissues Seonghwa has used. They’re scattered all over the floor and around his feet while he is frustratedly rubbing the stain off his polo again and again. Hongjoong finds it all no use, though, and he bets Seonghwa does, too. But, he keeps on hopelessly trying.

“You okay, man?” Mingi questions, breaking the dead air, as he pats Seonghwa by the arm. It’s only then the latter realizes the two are also there, flinching a little when he does.

Seonghwa has his thick eyebrows furrowed as he looks, the glare lingering on Hongjoong a little longer. “You shouldn’t have put your nose in,” he hisses.

Hongjoong scoffs, his hands on his waist. “And just let that happen?” he asks in a challenging tone.

He shrugs and throws the last piece of crumpled tissue, completely giving up on his stained clothes. “It was meant to happen anyway.”

“No way that was meant to happen,” Hongjoong counters, shaking his head in disbelief over his response and over how stubborn this once new boy could be.

“You don’t even know what it is, hero,” Seonghwa scoffs. It’s now his turn to shake his head as he adds, “It’s an _exit ceremony,_ or whatever they call it.” He purses his lips into a line as he glances back from his uniform to the two boys.

Dumbfounded, the two best friends both raise their eyebrows in a funny sync. “Exit ceremony?” Mingi asks, curious, voice quite breaking.

Seonghwa nods and sighs, eyes on the floor. “Yeah.”

“ _Exit?_ ” Hongjoong repeats with an even more emphasis.

“I left the band.”

And there goes another twist of events that Hongjoong can’t seem to ever be able to wrap his head around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T_T ITS FINALLY HERE AAA STRAWBERRY COSMOS HAS OFFICIALLY DEBUTED SC ROTY
> 
> this is more of like a backstory - how everything started and such ! we'll do our best to update weekly, every Saturday 12am kst teehee ^^ i hope this fic can be of help to u during these trying times in terms of entertainment! everyone, stay safe and healthy~
> 
> thank u to [lucie](https://twitter.com/http9293) for beta reading i lov u <3


	3. Satellite - All Time Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Seonghwa moves from Jinju to Seoul, the very first thing he looks for is to feel at home.
> 
> The first one he finds crumbles down. The second one - well - he has to be more careful; otherwise, even stars would fall from the sky, too.
> 
> _**02 Satellite - All Time Low** _
> 
> ✩ = Hongjoong  
> ☾ = Seonghwa

☾ 

  
  


Seoul is a lot different from Jinju.

  
  


In Seoul, while there are infrastructures, festivals, familiar shops, and cultural heritages here and there as well, Seonghwa still feels so different being in another city.

  
  


He never wanted it anyway. Moving out of Jinju was solely a decision taken by his parents. Of course, considering he was only 12, he had no say on that decision, he could only keep his mouth shut while he packed his stuff in boxes and zipped his guitars in their bags, and when they were on their way to another city too.

  
  


Even then, Seonghwa did try his best in making himself feel at home. As much as he could, he set up his bedroom similarly to the one he had back in the old city; his bed next to the window and under his hanging shelves of CDs and vinyls, his guitars in the corner, and the ceiling decorated with artificial stars. 

  
  


He did try his best. However, at night, he still longed to be back in the place where he truly felt he was home. As he lied down on his bed, he prayed to the stars of his very own sky, wishing he could someday find home in the new city, too.

  
  


But just like every birthday wish, Seonghwa believes prayers don’t come true, especially if they were sent to glow-in-the-dark stars.

  
  


He had this tiny hope for a positive change before the first day at his new school and so, he was very excited for it. His bag was packed as neat as it could be and he even went to bed early, a hopeful smile plastered on his face simply because he thought new school meant potentially new friends - friends who could finally make him feel at home.

  
  


From the first day, he remembers a few people. There was this tall guy who was apparently named Song Mingi as their teacher had said. He had this hair so long it was already reaching the tips of his ears and these narrow eyes that widened as soon as his name was called. If Seonghwa guessed it right, he seemed to be  _ very _ enthusiastic when it came to music; so much that he cheered as soon as Seonghwa shared to the class he could sing and play the guitar.

  
  


Song Mingi had a friend, too. His friend was short and he looked grumpy. In other words, Seonghwa would prefer not to talk to him, even though he honestly would like to, considering how desperate he was that time to have a friend for himself. He had never even caught his name, but based on what he had heard, it was Hongjoong.

  
  


And Hongjoong was amazingly good at playing the guitar. From the corner of the classroom, Seonghwa watched him and maybe hoped he could come up there and play with him or simply talk with him. He thought he could find a friend in him. But sadly he was just not confident enough, so he left it to the stars.

  
  


In fact, Seonghwa left everything to the stars ever since he had moved. He wanted to feel at home; he waited for something or  _ someone  _ to make him feel at home. He wanted to have friends; he sat there in the corner and quietly hoped to himself that someone would come by and say hi. He wanted to sing and play the guitar with a band and so, he was quick on saying yes when somebody came.

  
  


It’s when Seonghwa accidentally finds himself in the school’s music room. He’s all alone with just the instruments. Before he can even strum the guitar, a group of unfamiliar faces come in. Seonghwa has never seen them around school until that day, and he thinks it’s the same for them. 

  
  


The three of them walk closer to him, their eyes partly shocked, mostly curious. The blue-haired one nods towards the guitar and asks: “You play the guitar?”

  
  


Seonghwa shrugs. “I guess I can.”

  
  


“Show us,” he orders.

  
  


Raising his eyebrows in confusion, Seonghwa asks, “Why?”

  
  


The boy chuckles as he glances over to his friends before looking back again to Seonghwa. “If you can play the guitar well, then you’re automatically in our band,” he says with a grin plastered on his face, which grows even bigger as soon as Seonghwa’s eyes widen in excitement.

  
  


Without any hesitation, Seonghwa proceeds to play the guitar with one of the many songs he has learned: the well-known Misery Business by Paramore. He plays only a bit of it and even sings along. He is so determined to do anything he could just to finally be in a band.

  
  


And it is all worth it in the end, apparently.

  
  


Seonghwa feels as if he has found a place in the band they call Horizon. It isn’t exactly a perfect place to be called home, but he thinks it is enough. With them, he is who he longed to be - a vocalist, a guitarist. And more than that, he even becomes someone people admire after that welcoming party. It is perhaps a good place for him to grow. So, it is enough.

  
  


He also finally has people around him he can  _ probably  _ call his friends. Their drummer, Jooheon, is already in his senior year. Seonghwa isn’t especially close to him, but he thinks he doesn’t even need to bother as he should finish high school soon. 

  
  


Yuchan, their lead guitarist, on the other hand, is  _ very  _ quiet. The first time Seonghwa met the group, he thought he would get along so well with him. But, Yuchan turns out to be quite a difficult person to talk to. Aside from his cold stare, he is exceptionally reserved. Seonghwa has probably seen him talk only if it’s for Horizon’s sake. Other than that, he has his mouth sealed shut almost all the time.

  
  


Seonghwa sometimes thinks about where Horizon would end up if the band itself did not even have that much of a sturdy foundation - or a  _ close  _ friendship, if he were to give a name. With how things are between Jooheon, Yuchan, and himself, Seonghwa can’t see how they could go further. One of them, however, is the only one who can tie the bond tighter and can keep them together.

  
  


The blue-haired guy, Jiwon, is the first one to come and offer Seonghwa the place he could have in Horizon. Based on his hair, Seonghwa could tell he had a bad reputation at first glance. But then again, he shouldn’t be so quick to judge. He rather appreciates him  _ a little more than a lot. _

  
  


Jiwon has this crooked yet charming smile, one that Seonghwa found so alluring. As soon as Seonghwa saw how exceptionally nice he was towards Jooheon, Yuchan and towards him especially, he didn’t understand why all the other teachers hated him. In fact, Seonghwa sees him as an angel. With his laugh as bright as his halo and his words as sweet as music, maybe, Jiwon could really be one.

  
  


He and Seonghwa actually have a  _ very close _ relationship. Jiwon would wait for his classes to finish just so they could go to the music room together for practice. And even after practices, he would wait for him to finish packing his guitar so they could walk home together. They are very close friends,  _ very  _ that the relationship soon became a little too close.

  
  


“Seonghwa,” Jiwon calls. Seonghwa pauses on zipping his guitar back into its case for a while to turn his eyes over to him. 

  
  


He gives him a small smile as he responds, “Yeah?”

  
  


Jiwon has his hands in his pockets, like he always does. He has the infamous crooked smile and eyes anticipating as he looks over to the other guy. Seonghwa only raises his brows, waiting. 

  
  


“Listen, uhm,” he hums, his hand on top of his blue hair, “Your singing earlier. I think you can do better than that.”

  
  


Seonghwa gapes in subtle shock, his eyes round. “Oh. Then, I’ll practice harder!” he says, the warm smile returning back to his face.

  
  


Jiwon laughs, the one that sounds as sweet as music and the one that keeps the warm smile in Seonghwa’s face. “Actually, since it’s, like-” he pauses to check the watch around his wrist “-8 in the evening, I was thinking we could practice in the house together.”

  
  


“Oh?” Seonghwa hums, the warm smile now growing bigger and sweeter. He doesn’t know why, but he kind of likes where this is going; wherever it is going, as long as he is with Jiwon. “With Yuchan and Jooheon hyung?”

  
  


Jiwon looks over to the other two for a second, who are already fixing up their instruments. “Nah, I don’t really think they could come,” he shrugs and looks back to Seonghwa, “I hope it’s okay with you, though, that it’s just you and me.” 

  
  


He gives him once again that crooked, alluring smile that Seonghwa always returns with his warm one and to which he can never say no. So, of course, as everybody else has expected, Seonghwa nods his head in agreement. “Sure. I kinda really need the practice.”

  
  


“‘Kay. Let’s go.” Jiwon smiles before then they head out of the music room with their other bandmates following behind.

  
  


Jiwon’s house turns out to be a couple blocks away from their school and the two of them have decided to take a long walk under the evening sky rather than take the bus. “It would be more romantic,” as Jiwon has said, to which Seonghwa only laughs over as he proceeds to walk with him.

  
  


With heavy guitars on their backs, it could have been a tiring walk, honestly, but Seonghwa doesn’t mind at all. It seems to him that everything is so light when he is with Jiwon.

  
  


In fact, he really thinks everything else begins to feel at least a little lighter as soon as he has been welcomed into Horizon and as soon as he’s had Jiwon by his side. From moving from Jinju to Seoul, desperately yet quietly longing to have friends and feel at home, to now walking with a boy whose smile is blindingly attractive he could just say yes to him every damn time; Seonghwa begins to think he may have found  _ it _ .

  
  


Hopefully, he has.

  
  


“Here we are,” Jiwon finally says after a supposedly long and excruciating walk which all have happened in what seems like a short time for Seonghwa. 

  
  


As Seonghwa looks ahead, he sees a house in white and blue, not much different from all the other houses in the subdivision. Although he feels like a stranger, he follows Jiwon to the garage and watches him pull the door up, face distorting at the loud, crashing sounds it makes. 

  
  


Jiwon gives him a big smile as soon as the instruments inside the garage are revealed. There’s a complete drum set, all sorts of guitars here and there - the lead, rhythm, and bass, and even acoustics - and there are also microphones right in the center of the room.

  
  


“This is you,” Jiwon says as he points to the microphone stand and Seonghwa chuckles at him.

  
  


“This is really cool,” Seonghwa nods to himself as his eyes roam around the garage.

  
  


Jiwon shrugs. “Is it?”

  
  


“Yeah!” he says, sounding rather too excited. Sure, Seonghwa is very much into music and his parents are supportive of that. But, all he’s got in his house even back in his old hometown are guitars. No place like Jiwon’s garage. No drum set. Not even microphone stands. That should explain how much in awe he is, standing there in the garage turned studio.

  
  


“I’m glad you find it cool,” Jiwon continues as he sits on one of the stools. He drags another chair to his side and pats on it, gesturing for Seonghwa to have a seat. Seonghwa eventually obliges, taking his guitar bag off his shoulders and to the floor. “Now that you’re in Horizon and now that you are my  _ friend _ -” he pauses for a while, giving the other a funny glance. Seonghwa only chuckles along, “-you’re gonna be in here a lot.”

  
  


Seonghwa nods his head as his eyes roam around the place one more time. “Then, I am excited.”

  
  


“Alright. Let’s start then.”

  
  


With one last smile, Jiwon then grabs the electric guitar from his side. He carefully places it on his lap as he reaches out to turn the amplifier on. Seonghwa, too, stands up from his seat to get the microphone from its stand, the speaker causing baffling reverbs here and there, but it’s a sound their ears already used to.

  
  


Especially the sounds of guitar strums - it’s basically what makes them whole. It is as if they were brought to this world for their fingers to be on nothing but strings, pressing on them firmly while the other hand sweeps through. 

  
  


That’s how Seonghwa understands the song they decided to play for the upcoming school event - that they are  _ born  _ only to sing, only to play. It’s a gift that nothing can ever take away from them; like a curse, except that they gladly welcome it and accept it to themselves. As Seonghwa shuts his eyes close and sings his soul into the microphone, he understands that if this is what they are born to do, then  _ this  _ is what they should always do.

  
  


Otherwise, it’s death that waits for them beyond the line.

  
  


Perhaps, he fathoms the song too deeply, too meaningfully, the others can’t reach it, even Jiwon himself; or maybe it’s just that the song can be given multiple interpretations and the band can’t agree to one, because as Seonghwa sees, Jiwon must be perceiving this very differently.

  
  


“How’s that? Better than earlier?” Seonghwa says through the microphone exactly after Jiwon stops on strumming the guitar. 

  
  


His friend hums in thought, his head tilting to the side before he ends up smiling anyway. “Better.”

  
  


As soon as Seonghwa hears the word, the smile on his face returns. He sighs in relief as he concludes that maybe giving the song a personal meaning helps. 

  
  


“But-” Jiwon abruptly adds and the smile on Seonghwa’s face suddenly drops into a curious pout, “-you can still do better.”

  
  


Seonghwa whines and again to the mic. He throws his head back in frustration while Jiwon only laughs audibly at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” he huffs, exasperated.

  
  


“Okay, okay. Maybe if I give you a push, you’ll do better before you know it,” Jiwon says while doing exaggerated pushing gestures which puzzle Seonghwa even more.

  
  


“Some push?” Seonghwa questions, an eyebrow raised.

  
  


Jiwon nods rather excitedly, humming a yes. “Say,” then he hums in another thought, his eyes fixing up on the ceiling for a short second before he exclaims in surprise as if he actually has decided on it earlier before Seonghwa knows about it. He titters, crosses his legs, and fixes his eyes on Seonghwa as he asks, “What if I give you a kiss  _ if  _ and only if you’ve done it right?”

  
  


“What?” Seonghwa chortles, a big puff of air coming out of his lips in an utter shock. He can’t seem to wrap his head around a  _ particular word  _ Jiwon has said.

  
  


“Kiss,” Jiwon repeats, sounding rather too nonchalant about it as if he isn’t knocking the air out of Seonghwa’s lungs at that moment. 

  
  


Seonghwa can’t say that he doesn’t want to do it because he  _ definitely  _ wants to do it. This is Kang Jiwon he is talking about - the sophomore from 15-3, whose hair is as blue as the waves of the sea, and which complements the brown of his eyes, the guy whose smile Seonghwa finds so fucking charming he can never find himself saying no to it, the infamous Jiwon the world despises so much, but Seonghwa ends up finding himself so smitten over him.

  
  


Therefore, he tries singing again, silently praying to himself and to the stars in his very own sky that he finally does this time right (and it’s a waste of prayer).

  
  


It’s then when Seonghwa senses that his prayers are finally being answered. He’s in a band. He has friends now. He has Jiwon now.

  
  


And said Jiwon does kiss him after he sings.

  
  


It’s a sudden move that Seonghwa forgets how to react. As soon as he flutters his eyes open, he turns to Jiwon only to see him already on his way to kiss him on the lips. 

  
  


And it’s rather  _ soft _ . Seonghwa feels a wave of various things for a split second only from a small peck on the lips. That’s how much power Jiwon has over him. It’s a  _ small peck _ and yet Seonghwa already can’t stop himself from smiling.

  
  


“Better,” Jiwon mutters under his breath, then the crooked smile returns back to his face.

  
  


Seonghwa only nods a bit, his eyes still wide and his smile still stretched out big. He agrees, “Better.”

  
  


Life-changing events begin to happen from that evening even though it is  _ just  _ a small kiss. It’s like a snowball effect. It all starts with a tiny snowball, one that is as small as that kiss shared between two innocent boys. But, the more months pass by, the bigger the snowball gets as it rolls down the hill; big enough to destroy anything on its path and  _ anything  _ on the band’s path.

  
  


And it’s big enough to cause Seonghwa’s first death.

  
  


He’s 15, finally in his sophomore year. He’s still the vocalist for Horizon and everybody knows that since the evening of their welcoming party from a year ago and since all the other school events their band was invited to perform at. He could say they were a success with all the performances, gigs offered, and  _ fame  _ which they probably have enjoyed too much; cue all the parties they’ve had - the alcohol, the smoking, the sex, and such. 

  
  


Seonghwa could not blame them though. It was like a blinding light and it was the only thing where their eyes were fixed on, totally missing the incoming snowball on their way. 

  
  


Unfortunately, he was the only one in the band who noticed what had changed.

  
  


So, he’s 15 and in his sophomore year when Seonghwa decides on quitting the band.

  
  


“You’re what?” Yuchan spits. It’s probably the first time since Seonghwa was welcomed into their band when it is only Yuchan’s voice that can be heard all throughout their practice room. The abrupt drop of bomb seems to be too surprising that Jiwon himself can’t even stutter a word.

  
  


Seonghwa shrugs, his hands falling flat on his thighs. “Leaving the band,” he repeats. He senses the two may be finding it so odd that he sounds too unconcerned about this. But, he reckons this is simply what it is; this is how it feels to be  _ dead. _

  
  


“Jooheon hyung has graduated and I had to play the drums instead of the bass, but now you’re leaving? What the fuck do you expect me and Jiwon to do?” Yuchan says fiercely, his eyebrows furrowed and his glare looking colder than ever before.

  
  


“Yuchan,” Jiwon calls and the said boy takes this as a cue for him to stop. He throws his hands through his dark hair and leaves the two in the corner of the room to talk. Jiwon stands up from the cajon and pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he glances over to Seonghwa. “What’s the matter?” he asks, tries his best to sound calm and gentle. But, Seonghwa can’t call himself a fool no more.

  
  


“I don’t enjoy it like I used to anymore. It’s pointless,” Seonghwa reasons as he tries his best to avert from Jiwon’s gaze.

  
  


“Enjoy?” Jiwon scoffs into a smile, but it’s not crooked nor sweet. It’s not like the one Seonghwa saw a year ago. The snowball has probably taken it away from him, too. “Are you blind? We’re performing here and there, even gigs outside the school. We are  _ rising _ , Seonghwa. How could you not enjoy this?”

  
  


“But, what’s the point of all of those?” Seonghwa snaps, nearly cutting Jiwon off. “What’s the point when instead of my fingers, it’s nothing but dust on the guitar in my room?”

  
  


“You are  _ so  _ dramatic,” Jiwon laughs audibly loud; it echoes across the room and terrifyingly rings through Seonghwa’s ears again and again. He walks closer to him and grabs his hand, holds on it tight as if he never wants him to leave. Then, he places the other hand on Seonghwa’s cheek, his calloused fingers grazing on his jaw. He looks into his eyes with a smirk as he says, “How about all the nights we-”

  
  


“ _ God.  _ For fuck’s sake, stop it,” Seonghwa cuts him off as he retracts from his touch. 

  
  


Jiwon keeps the smug smile up on his face as he lets out a dismissing chuckle. That’s all he can do - simply laugh it off while Seonghwa slips from the band’s and especially  _ his  _ fingers. “Alright. If you so want to leave, go.”

  
  


Seonghwa breathes out, his shoulders falling and eyebrows softening in relief. At first, he had thought it would have cost him hours and hours of crying and begging Jiwon to let him go; it’s the picture he had in his mind as he walked from the classroom and to their practice room. But, all of this is so out of the picture. He has never thought Jiwon would let him go so easily.

  
  


“Thank you,” he mumbles weakly before he heads for the door.

  
  


But, before he could even leave, Jiwon speaks again, “But, just so you know, we initiate exit ceremonies whenever someone leaves.”

  
  


Seonghwa stops on his steps and pivots. With raised brows, he scoffs, “No, you don’t.”

  
  


Jiwon sits back down on the cajon, his hands on his knees as he sends Seonghwa a smirk and a glare of which Seonghwa can’t seem to take his mind off. “See you Friday,” he says, leaving everything else as vague as it is.

  
  


The last words appear to be impossible for Seonghwa. He knows to himself that the exit ceremony is total bullshit, something Jiwon has made up out of nowhere just to scare him from leaving. He’s seen Jooheon leave the band the day before he graduated and he is certain there is no such thing. It is rather unlikely to happen.

  
  


But then again, Seonghwa nearly forgets that it is Jiwon speaking. He may have changed from who he was a year ago, but Jiwon would always and always live up to his words. When he said he would kiss Seonghwa if he got it right, he kissed him. And when he whispered to his ear that he would make him feel good, he  _ did  _ make him feel good.

  
  


So, since Jiwon had said on a Thursday afternoon that there would be an exit ceremony, Seonghwa now finds himself in the center of the school cafeteria with food dripping from his head, to his face, and to his uniform, on one supposedly fine Friday. 

  
  


Seonghwa cannot move, nor can he speak. In fact, he feels nothing, terrifyingly  _ nothing.  _ He only stands right there in the center just like he always does on stages, but this is in totality a different thing. His hands are balled into fists and eyes shut tight as he thinks why -  _ why don’t I feel anything?  _

  
  


Being mistreated by the same people whom he used to consider calling his friends right in the middle of a crowded place with no one at all daring to stand up, speak up for him, to help him; all of this should be a total nightmare. Jiwon probably actually hopes Seonghwa would be horrified and practically beg to accept him back into the band. 

  
  


But Seonghwa thinks there is always something more to be afraid of: his own death. 

  
  


And he could not care or at least bring himself to care about anything else, even if this would be the perfect time for him to pray the earth to swallow him whole, because he would always end up caring more about how his fingers would ache when touching his guitar. 

  
  


It’s always about his own death more than his reputation’s.

  
  


Seonghwa has only processed the occuring events when gasps from the crowd fill his ears. He flutters his eyes open, confused. Then, he turns his head over his shoulder to see Kang Jiwon, still standing behind him with hands in the pockets of his jeans, but now with milk dripping from his navy blue blazers.

  
  


It’s even more puzzling when Seonghwa hears a familiar laugh, probably the one he has been hearing in their classroom a lot. When he looks ahead, he sees Hongjoong, with his vibrant red hair and his tiny hand hovering over his mouth, most likely to hide the fact that he is laughing. But it’s all of no use as his eyes are already happy crescents. 

  
  


Seonghwa looks at him, squinting, because he never knows the answer; the answer to why would Hongjoong suddenly step foot into the scene when all throughout freshman year, he never even tried to talk to him at all? 

  
  


Seonghwa never gets the answer, even when he finds himself in the comfort room later with Hongjoong and Song Mingi interrogating him about what happened, because as soon as he tells them he left the band, he walks out of the room with uniform still stained with Friday’s lunch menu. He has never given himself a chance to know them anymore even when it’s the stars who do tell him so. 

  
  


Now that he feels dead, he stops believing in the stars, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


✩

  
  


Hongjoong enters the music room on a Monday afternoon, running with a bright smile on his face. 

  
  


He scans the room, doing a quick headcount, checking if every one of his friends and especially of his band are inside. He sees Yeosang sitting in the drum set, eyes round as he listens to Jongho, who seems to be teaching him the basics of said instrument. Yunho and Mingi are standing right in the center of the room with guitars on their shoulders. They appear to be practicing how to look  _ cool  _ with guitars (so, Hongjoong silently smiles to himself). Wooyoung, on the other hand, is playing games on his phone just like he always does, with San by his side watching him play and sometimes yelling at him what he should have done, just like he always does.

  
  


As Hongjoong confirms everyone is in the room, he calls, “Guys, guys!” Excited, he jogs to the center and runs in place as he waits for everybody else to circle around him. “ _ So, _ ” he starts in an enthusiastic tone, “Horizon backed out from the battle of the bands in Busan!”

  
  


Mingi chuckles, “Of course, they would. What can they do without Seonghwa?” 

  
  


“But that’s not the point,” Hongjoong exhales as he frowns at Mingi, who only laughs along in the end, “Okay. Remember how I was called to the principal earlier?”

  
  


“Hell yeah,” Jongho says, chuckling to himself, “They finally called you out on the red hair?”

  
  


“No!” Hongjoong whines. He feels frustrated that the boys are ruining the sense of surprise. There’s a reason why he can’t get direct to the point right away - simply to build anticipation, which in this case does not seem to exist. The band and their friends still seem so clueless about the news Hongjoong has in his hand, so he decides to give up and drop the bomb at once, “The principal asked me if we want to represent the school for the battle and I quickly said yes!”

  
  


The group gasps and then, cheers almost all in sync. They start running and jumping all around the room while Hongjoong stands there, watching them with hands on his stomach as he laughs. 

  
  


The band spends a lot of time practicing and listening to an endless number of songs with their friends every damn day if possible, even if they don’t even have to because they know they aren’t going to be offered many opportunities like this. They have been a band for almost three years together since their sophomore year and even until now in their senior year and yet they have probably been only to a couple events and no battles. 

  
  


Therefore, this is definitely a huge deal. At last, after three years, Hongjoong sees a stepping stone for the band. He sees one of the compensation for their hardships after a whole lot more birthday wishes and limitless prayers. This is  _ totally  _ a huge deal and they have to pour all three years of practice into this battle. 

  
  


And so, Hongjoong, as the leader he is, calls the group once again. It takes a while for them to calm down and sit in a circle with him. He can’t blame them, though. The moment Hongjoong heard the words coming from the principal’s mouth he felt, as well, a huge and abrupt wave of excitement rushing through his body. It then took a while for him to find the words and to calm the bright smile on his face down.

  
  


“Okay, listen. We have to take this seriously,” Hongjoong begins again. The group, including the friends outside the band, with brightly twinkling eyes, nod in sync. Hongjoong smiles even wider when he sees how determined they are, and he could never be more grateful for getting to work with these people. “We have to choose the right song, we have to do something completely new, that people have not seen; we have to do a  _ lot _ .”

  
  


“That is all fine by me!” San exclaims, sounding confident and unconcerned.

  
  


“San, you’re not in the band,” Wooyoung says disapprovingly, a frown apparent on his face.

  
  


“Hey, San is  _ in  _ the band, and so are all of you,” Hongjoong finally speaks up as he gestures towards the other friends, “You just don’t have the instruments,” he later adds and then, the group falls into light chuckles, Jongho’s mirthless ones more overheard. “Okay, seriously!” Hongjoong starts once more, slapping his hand on the floor to have the group’s attention. “It’s January now and the battle will be in April. But, we have to use our time wisely. If possible, we should at least have some songs up in the setlist by this week.”

  
  


“Me!” Mingi yelps as he suddenly raises his hand. He catches Hongjoong by surprise, causing the latter to flinch a little before he gestures to him to proceed. “I vote on Arctic Monkeys.”

  
  


The band and even their friends wearily groan in chorus, their faces dropping into obvious frowns and Jongho even sometimes rolling his eyes. “It’s like we practice Arctic Monkeys every damn day!” Jongho complains, playfully rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt as if he is somewhat preparing himself to punch his friend right in the face.

  
  


For their every jamming session in the music room, for some reason, they would always end up playing at least one song by Arctic Monkeys. And Mingi would always be the first reason for that. It’s not really surprising, considering that the man has been a  _ huge  _ fan of them ever since he and Hongjoong were very young. Even until now in their senior year, he still can’t seem to let go of his undying love for the band. 

  
  


“I want to show off with my bass!” Mingi jokingly reasons, whining. It’s the same excuse he pulls out every jamming session anyway.

  
  


“Hey, this ain’t just about you,” Yeosang pokes him right at the chest and Mingi fakes a painful grunt, exaggeratingly falling backwards to the floor before Yunho pulls him back up again by the wrists.

  
  


“Hyung,” Jongho calls and the whole band suddenly falls in silence, immediately dropping the chaos that is just about to ensue. It’s always as if once the youngest’s voice is heard, everybody else shuts up and listens. Hongjoong often finds it so amusing. “Maybe we should do a song that would say a lot about our band,” Jongho suggests just as when nothing else is heard.

  
  


Hongjoong tilts his head and hums in thought. “Like we can compose our own song?”

  
  


The others coo in anticipation, Yunho bouncing right in his place with a bright smile on his face. “Write a song, write a song!” he says with hands balled into fists.

  
  


Mingi nudges Hongjoong by the elbow as he gives him a suggestive smile. “It’s not like you haven’t written a song before, right?” he raises his eyebrows in a funny rhythm, one that causes Hongjoong to frown and attempt to push him away.

  
  


“God. Don’t get me started. I was 10 years old, okay?” Hongjoong throws his palms on his face in an effort to hide himself from embarrassment and maybe hide himself from the others as well who are now pushing him to share something he had stupidly done from the past. “Keep talking, but you’ll never hear it from me anyway,” he rolls his eyes and sighs in relief when they finally stop, “I’ll try working on a song, I guess. What else can we do? Any concerns? Questions? Anything?” 

  
  


“Me!” Yunho exclaims with a hand raised above his head. All the others then turn their heads towards him. It seems somewhat a surprise. Yunho is often agreeable in discussions like this. He would only listen, nod, and oblige. Having him speak up is such a rare occurrence that Hongjoong is now curiously all ears. “I think it would be better if we can have another vocalist for harmonization and all,” he shrugs, suddenly lowering down his hand. Hongjoong senses the kid must be feeling shy to suggest. In fact, he can actually tell by the pink tint coloring the tips of his ears, popping out amidst the dark hair.

  
  


“Oh, I’ve watched a couple videos of bands. They do that a lot and I think it’s pretty,” San agrees, nodding.

  
  


Hongjoong then hums, pondering. Perhaps, he’s been too into classic rock music that he hasn’t been much updated with what is now. Harmonizing vocals have never crossed his mind until Yunho has said it himself as the bands he listens to - well - in simplest words, they don’t have that. 

  
  


But, it shouldn’t be a bad thing, though. It probably wouldn’t even hurt to try. Whatever it takes to help the band especially for the upcoming battle of the bands in spring, they would most likely risk it all.

  
  


“Okay. Jongho, can you do it?” Hongjoong asks straight away only for the younger to say no.

  
  


“I could if I wasn’t already the drummer,” Jongho explains with a regretful pout.

  
  


Hongjoong huffs, his shoulders dropping. “And you wouldn’t want me to sing anyway.”

  
  


Silence then fills the air in the music room as the seven of them ponder. Yunho slightly feels a pang of regret on his chest as he doesn’t want to burden his other members, but Mingi gives him a pat of reassurance on his back, letting him know that they’ll figure it out soon. It is only in that moment when, as if - and as cliché as it would sound - a  _ bulb  _ lights up, Mingi exclaims in realization.

  
  


“I  _ may  _ have a person in mind that you all would like,” Mingi says in a suggestive tone and even though he hasn’t mentioned any name of said person, all of them already know who it is, especially Hongjoong himself. 

  
  


It’s a name that, for some reason, usually comes out of Mingi’s mouth in all instances as if he wants to remind Hongjoong again and again. It’s a name so well-known by the band as all seven of them, including the leader despite how much in denial he is, acknowledge that  _ he  _ is a total loss. A treasure their map had missed four years ago.

  
  


But then again, Hongjoong is deniable. Four years later, he still thinks to himself that he was right. “Why do you always bring up Park Seonghwa?” he whines as he playfully kicks Mingi’s shoes.

  
  


Mingi raises both of his hands in defense. “I didn’t even say a name. How come he’s the first person that comes to your mind?”

  
  


Hongjoong groans, suddenly coming back to his grumpy 13-year-old self, while the rest of the group points and laughs, joining the younger on teasing their leader. “ _ Fine, _ ” Hongjoong spits, crossing his arms across his chest as he confidently challenges, “If you want Seonghwa so much in the band, go ahead and ask him. As if he’ll agree anyway.”

  
  


His best friend scoffs arrogantly. Mingi throws a hand out for a handshake as he starts, “You will have to ask him out on a date if he says yes.”

  
  


And yet again, Hongjoong groans as he slaps Mingi’s hand away. “What kind of a bet is that?” he says, obviously unamused, but the whole band still laughs at him. They are likely to be too happy to mind how miffed Hongjoong could be at the moment. So, he can only ignore.

  
  


Mingi stands up from his spot and pulls Yunho up, too. Although the latter is evidently confused, he still rides along even when Mingi is already yanking him to the door. “We’ll go to the classroom and ask Seonghwa, alright?” He shouts, his voice echoing across the room.

  
  


“ _ Yah! _ ” Hongjoong yells back as he stands up right away, surprised, “It doesn’t have to be now! Come back here!” 

  
  


However, Mingi disregards him with what seems to be an evil laugh. He and Yunho run into the hallways instead, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor. 

  
  


And Hongjoong later finds himself chasing after the two, leaving the rest of the band behind. He doesn’t know why either. It’s completely unnecessary.

  
  


But, maybe -  _ just  _ maybe - Hongjoong wants to see what would happen, too.

  
  


Panting, the three friends glide back through the empty classroom. Hongjoong grabs the other two by the shoulders for balance and also in an attempt to stop them. It’s all useless anyway. Their breaths and squeaking shoes echo through the classroom, at last catching the attention of the person they have exactly been looking for.

  
  


The room is empty on a Monday at 5 in the afternoon. The chairs are aligned in an organized manner and the boards are wiped clean. As it seems, Park Seonghwa is the last person in the room, probably as the Monday cleaner. He stands there in the opposite corner with wide eyes in shock and a broom in his hand. Hongjoong senses he must be surprised to see the three of them in the same place as he is; perhaps, also curious as to why they look near death, exhaling their very last breaths.

  
  


“Park Seonghwa,” Mingi calls in between breaths as he drops to his knees, exhausted from all the running. Yunho prompts himself up by holding onto the door frame, his other hand gesturing towards said Park Seonghwa. “I want to surprise you, but I can’t-” he exhales “-I’m too-” and he inhales deeply before he continues, “-breathless.”

  
  


The dark-haired boy stays on his spot and holds onto the broom tight. He looks at the three friends, curious and puzzled, then he asks, “Surprise?” 

  
  


Mingi nods and dramatically grasps on his chest to exaggerate the breathlessness. He then points to the man and starts, “You.” But, he ends up standing up again and nudging Hongjoong by the shoulder, encouraging him to say the words instead of him.

  
  


“Why me?” Hongjoong complains, tone unexpectedly high-pitched.

  
  


“Just say it,” Mingi hisses under his breath at the same time smacking his best friend on the back of his head.

  
  


“This is your plan-”

  
  


“Just say it!” 

  
  


Mingi dismisses him and Hongjoong only gives up, groaning as he inhales deeply. He does his best in holding himself back from throwing a punch to Mingi’s face; otherwise, it would be another embarrassing chaos for Seonghwa to witness. And Hongjoong doesn’t want that.

  
  


So, Hongjoong can only let himself in through the door and push his tiny hands into the pockets of his uniform slacks. If he has to talk to Seonghwa, he has to do it looking  _ confidently _ , he believes. Therefore, he takes another breath in before he finally (and he makes sure he sounds perfectly nonchalant about this) says, “Join our band.”

  
  


When he glances over Mingi and Yunho, he sees them laughing rather stiffly, fists up against their mouths to hold themselves back. And when Hongjoong looks ahead and back to Seonghwa, the boy surprisingly has wide and amused eyes with ends of the lips partly tugged up. Yet, Hongjoong doesn’t know why.

  
  


“What?” Seonghwa says, still finding what seems to be another twist of events surprising.

  
  


Hongjoong hideously rolls his eyes as he sighs, “Don’t make me say it again or my friends here would enjoy the show too much.”

  
  


Seonghwa looks over to said friends, standing behind Hongjoong and trying their very best not to laugh so audibly loud it might bounce off the walls of the small classroom. Then, he glances back to Hongjoong, still puzzled. “Your band?” he asks.

  
  


“Yeah, if you want; I don’t care,” Hongjoong shrugs. He thinks this is the perfect time to wish for the earth to swallow him whole because he knows to himself he obviously looks like he is trying the hardest to be  _ lowkey  _ about this. He’s just hoping Seonghwa doesn’t realize that.

  
  


“Your band? The…” Seonghwa pauses in between to think, “The strawberry thingy?”

  
  


Hongjoong turns his head to his friends and grumbles, “You know what? I take it back.”

  
  


“Hey, it’s Strawberry  _ Cosmos _ ,” Mingi steps up and says in defense as he points to the other boy.

  
  


Seonghwa lightly chuckles and raises both of his hands apologetically. “Sorry. But, why would you ask me all of a sudden?”

  
  


The three friends look at and wait for each other, hoping one of them would respond to the puzzled boy. But, just as when Yunho slowly raises his hand to speak, Hongjoong decides he should be the one to explain, considering that he’s the leader of the band. He also realizes that he shouldn’t even have pushed Mingi to ask. If a member thinks they should recruit another vocalist for the better, it has to be Hongjoong’s responsibility to ask, whether his ego likes it or not.

  
  


Therefore, Hongjoong clears his throat and Yunho suddenly stops himself. He explains, “We think the band can do even better if we have you.”

  
  


Even with his back on, Hongjoong can see how surprised Mingi is by his words. But, he also knows how proud his best friend is of him and Hongjoong can’t help, but be proud of himself, too. After all, maybe - and even the tiniest bit - he really has grown up from his grumpy, 13-year-old self ever since he’s had the band by his side.

  
  


Seonghwa scoffs. That’s a response Hongjoong does not expect. “I left Horizon for a reason,” he shares, short but simple enough for the three friends to comprehend. Mingi sighs and Hongjoong nods once, understanding and taking that already as a no. He rather believes it’s a good thing they gave him a try. Just like what he thought, it would not hurt to try and it  _ definitely  _ did not.

  
  


Anyway, he’s still a good loss. Maybe, Hongjoong finally admits this one to himself.

  
  


“But,” Seonghwa abruptly adds, grabbing their attention once more. The tiny spark of hope in their hands suddenly grows a little bigger, “I’ll be in your every practice and I’ll see it for myself.”

  
  


Hongjoong raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “What?” he says flatly.

  
  


“Okay! That’s great for us!” Mingi exclaims, raising a thumbs-up at Seonghwa. And before Hongjoong can even speak and complain again, Mingi throws a palm over his mouth, his words muffled by the large hand.

  
  


“We’re practicing at the music room right now if you wanna come and see!” Yunho joins in between broken laughs. He, too, helps Mingi in yanking Hongjoong out of the room and back into the corridor, grabbing the older gently by the wrists and dragging him away.

  
  


Seonghwa flashes a small smile before he carefully drops the broom by the corner and says, “Cool. I’ll be there.”

  
  


As soon as the three friends are out into the hallway, they run back into the practice room. Hongjoong  _ hates  _ running especially that they have just run a little while ago, but he doesn’t really have much of a choice as Mingi’s arm is over his shoulder and Yunho’s hand is wrapped around his wrist. With full force, he takes his best friend’s hand off his mouth and scolds, “What the  _ fuck  _ was that?”

  
  


Mingi only giggles and ruffles his red hair. “It’s for the best,” he explains shortly.

  
  


The two friends only let go of him when they arrived into the music room. The door swings open in an abrupt manner as Hongjoong barges in, surprising the other friends left in the room.

  
  


“We are recruiting  _ him _ . He is not recruiting  _ us _ ,” Hongjoong tells off, emphasizing on the words in hopes Mingi would understand, “It’s like we are the ones on an audition instead of the other way around,” he adds as he frustratedly drops sitting on the floor with Wooyoung and Yeosang.

  
  


“Hyung, what happened?” Yeosang asks with concern apparent on his face as he looks questioningly to the other two who have just come in. 

  
  


Before Hongjoong can even bring himself to explain to Yeosang, Seonghwa enters the room, catching everyone’s eyes and creating an awkward silence. It seems Seonghwa got shy with the band’s response, too, as he timidly walks through the room and presents himself in front of the group.

  
  


Hongjoong doesn’t know why it reminds him of the first day of freshman year - when Seonghwa was shyly standing in front of the room and introduced himself as someone from another city to the class. Four years later and Hongjoong, for some odd reason, still sees him the same way; or rather, he  _ believes  _ he still is the same dark-haired boy from Jinju, the same Seonghwa who sat in the other corner of the class and watched Hongjoong play the guitar during breaks. 

  
  


Hongjoong had noticed that; he just didn’t say a thing at all.

  
  


Four years later and there isn’t much of a difference. It’s still Monday and Seonghwa is still standing on the other side and about to watch Hongjoong play, except this time, he’s with a band.

  
  


Looking back, this moment right here would have not crossed Hongjoong’s mind. As much as he had been wishing for it, he would have never pictured himself with a band that calls themselves Strawberry Cosmos. Sure, Mingi would probably be there, but all the others would be out of the frame. It’s something that is too beyond his expectations.

  
  


Especially the figure of Park Seonghwa. Despite the amount of surprises Hongjoong has witnessed about him,  _ this  _ would still seem so unbelievable. 

  
  


Four years ago, Seonghwa was a nobody. He was just a lost boy in the autumn sky who avoided the class’s shenanigans with all his might. He was  _ that _ boy until the evening of the welcoming party and the series of performances he had shown with his band afterwards. 

  
  


Hongjoong had heard a lot of stories about him since then and of course, they were often from Yeji. They were usually about him and Jiwon, which was surprising and turned out to be  _ even more  _ surprising on that infamous Friday at the cafeteria. Hongjoong thought they were  _ so  _ close, too close for that incident to happen.

  
  


Now, here goes another bombshell. Hongjoong and his band are face to face with Park Seonghwa and it’s not because the latter is here to be recruited; it’s the  _ band  _ itself to be recruited, to be evaluated, to apparently be checked if they are enough for Seonghwa’s standards or something. And Hongjoong’s pride and ego can’t stomach that in.

  
  


“Hongjoong,” he hears Mingi call. His best friend playfully slaps him on the back as he tells him, “Let’s just do it, okay?

  
  


Hongjoong groans, he hates when Mingi is right. He stands up in the end as he knows they will still be doing it anyway. He then turns to his band before he explains, “Seonghwa isn’t in the band yet, but he’ll be in our practices to see for himself if we’re good enough or something.” 

  
  


Hongjoong hears Jongho scoff behind the drum set, perhaps finding Seonghwa unbelievable, too. He would pour the fuel to the fire, but he trusts Mingi more. If his best friend wants Seonghwa in the band so much since the very beginning, maybe it’s just the right thing to do. In fact, if Hongjoong would observe the hints back, he would conclude it’s almost like the stars are telling him to do it. And if it’s the stars speaking, what else could he do but oblige them?

  
  


Therefore, with a sigh and another eye-roll, he goes and grabs his pink guitar from its stand. He places it right on his shoulder as he watches the other members prepare themselves, too. Then, he glances over to Seonghwa on the other side of the room, with arms crossed across his chest and an intimidating look in his eyes. Hongjoong clears his throat and says, “Let’s play a bit of Satellite.”

  
  


Jongho then counts off with his sticks clashing against each other before Hongjoong starts strumming his guitar to a very familiar rhythm. 

  
  


Alongside every Arctic Monkeys’ song which Mingi excitedly suggests, this is one of the songs they play a lot when they jam. The song is almost like their ritual, something that hypes them up as it reminds them of who they are and what they are born to do - to sing, to play these instruments, and to be in this band until the orbits stop revolving. It reminds them that  _ this  _ is what the stars tell them to do. And if they keep things this way, it is only then their orbits, which keep them together, would continue circulating. 

  
  


They finish the song with a crash just after the chorus. The first thing Hongjoong does next is to look from his guitar strings and to Seonghwa, who has remained still in the same place as he was minutes ago. All eight of them, including their friends who seem to be anticipating a lot, wait for someone to talk, to break the reoccurring silence filling in the room. 

  
  


“So?” Hongjoong begins in a surprisingly challenging tone. He tilts his head as he waits for the other to talk, Seonghwa’s constant humming ringing through his ears.

  
  


Seonghwa nods after a while before he says, “Good as expected.”

  
  


Wooyoung, sitting in the corner, then applauds and even urges the two other friends to join in. Mingi waves them off and shushes them before an expectant smile returns to his face.

  
  


“Are you playing this for the battle?” Seonghwa asks as he takes a seat on the beatbox nearby.

  
  


Hongjoong glances over to his band first before he responds, “We haven’t decided on the songs yet.”

  
  


Seonghwa nods again, understanding. “If you’re joining a battle, you should break free from what is original. How you covered the song is good, but you sound like All Time Low, not like Strawberry…  _ thingy _ .”

  
  


Their friends from the corner coo, the sound bouncing off the walls and irritating Hongjoong’s ears. He clears his throat and asks with an emphasis on a particular word, “So, what should Strawberry  _ Cosmos  _ do then?”

  
  


The other shrugs with a thoughtful pout. “Maybe you could modify your lead. Improvise or something,” he advises.

  
  


With a smug smile, Hongjoong rather confidently brings his guitar over to Seonghwa. He takes it off his shoulders and hands it over to the dark-haired boy, who suddenly seems so stunned with the action. “Maybe you have a suggestion?” Hongjoong challenges as he raises his brows.

  
  


Seonghwa flutters his eyes in shock, glancing between the electric guitar and the red-haired boy. He raises his hand a little only to retract and keep his hands flat on his thighs. “I have, but I wouldn’t be able to play it,” he says, catching Hongjoong in what seems to be another surprise.

  
  


Tilting his head to the side, Hongjoong asks, “Weren’t you Horizon’s guitarist?”

  
  


“Hongjoong-ah,” he hears Mingi call from the back, a sudden reminder for him. He then takes that as a cue for him to stop and wears the guitar around his body again.

  
  


Seonghwa, on the other hand, only chuckles it off. He then stands up from the box and throws a strap of his bag over his shoulder before he says, “I  _ was _ . Two years ago. Things have changed now.” He flashes the red-haired boy a smirk, whose lips are now pursed in a line. Then, he heads out of the room as he says, “See you tomorrow then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow the [band's twitter account](https://twitter.com/strwbrrycosmos) if u havent ! cue all the PRETTY art made by my friends <3 also all chapters will be beta read by our lovely manager [lucie](https://twitter.com/http9293)


	4. Alone Together - Fall Out Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things Seonghwa has taken note of while he watches the band of seven friends, but he would rather not talk about it.
> 
> **  
> _03: Alone Together - Fall Out Boy_  
>  **
> 
> ✩ = Hongjoong  
> ☾ = Seonghwa

☾

  
  


From all the times he has spent with the group of seven friends, Seonghwa realizes two things:

  
  


One of which is that Strawberry Cosmos is a whole lot different from Horizon.

  
  


He would not like to compare the two bands, but the huge difference in his environment urges him to do so.

  
  


First things first, Horizon would not have outside friends included in the group. In fact, other bands would not include their friends and call them  _ band members  _ as well and would only do if and only if their hands are on an instrument. Seonghwa thinks Strawberry Cosmos is the first case and he believes that is quite something else.

  
  


Seonghwa has only noticed this on one Friday.

  
  


As usual, after class, Seonghwa walks straight from the classroom to the music room alone. Although the band members themselves are his classmates, he would prefer to be there first  _ and  _ he doesn’t think he would fit with them yet. He would not even dare try squeezing himself in and he thinks he doesn’t have to. He isn’t even an official member yet and even if he is, he  _ might  _ just leave right after the battle. That’s all he is here for anyway.

  
  


So, he always goes there alone. He’s just thankful they don’t question it or ask him to come walk with them; otherwise, things would be even more uncomfortable than they already are. Seonghwa understands, though, that he would probably be with this band for a couple months and he should try befriending at least one or two. However, he still can’t bring himself  _ back  _ to that level yet.

  
  


After everything that happened, he doesn’t think he still can.

  
  


Usually, when he arrives at the music room, there would be no one else and he would be the first person in, which is something he is very glad for. Seonghwa would not like being in the room with other people only for him to completely isolate himself or only for the same people to try so hard to talk to him. 

  
  


However on that Friday, Seonghwa barges into the room, the door swinging so wide open it bangs against the adjacent wall, surprising the  _ other  _ people inside. He more than often does that for no reason at all and it was no problem until that Friday because he doesn’t expect the other friends would be there, too.

  
  


“Hyung, we noticed you’re there; you don’t have to be so loud!” Wooyoung jokes, startled. He dramatically places a hand above his chest as he takes in deep breaths to somewhat calm him down or just play around with the older, who, by the way, is still frozen on the doorway. 

  
  


Seonghwa stands there, still, hands around the knob and eyes round and wide. He can’t believe the band’s friends would be there  _ again _ , just like in every other practice they’ve had, and he can’t believe they are right there before the members themselves, as if they are part of the band. 

  
  


And Seonghwa can’t believe he would be stuck in a room with them while he waits for the others to finally arrive and start the goddamn practice, which would probably and seemingly take forever in Seonghwa’s time.

  
  


“Why are you all here?” he asks, dumbfounded. His eyes are still round and wide, but more curious than surprised this time. He finds it rather interesting that these friends are never absent in their schedule, perhaps have never missed even once. 

  
  


“We have practice, right?” replies Jongho, who stops on fixing the drums for a while as he seems so stunned by Seonghwa’s question. The latter thinks what he has asked might have been so odd to their ears. Maybe no one has ever asked them before.

  
  


“Yeah,  _ we  _ do,” Seonghwa nods, confirming before he glances over to the other three, whose lips are now in straight lines and Seonghwa is afraid he might be saying something he should not even speak about, but, still, as his curiosity is stronger than his empathy, he continues, “I mean, them. Why are they here?”

  
  


“We get dismissed earlier than you do on Fridays,” San replies rather politely, his lips that were once a line now returning to a sweet smile, dimples (which Seonghwa has never noticed before) popping out of his cheeks. Wooyoung and Yeosang then nod in sync by his sides, agreeing with the other.

  
  


It has become odder for Seonghwa now that they don’t seem to know what he is actually talking about, as if this is completely normal in a band at all. The Beatles never had friends who held no instruments included in their group before, nor in present times; The 1975 never had any and Seonghwa is very sure of this. Neither in any local, high school rock band,  _ especially  _ in Horizon.

  
  


Seonghwa simply doesn’t understand what Strawberry Cosmos has.

  
  


“I mean,” he starts again, now ambling further into the room, “In every practice, all of you are here. You’re not even a member, am I right?”

  
  


Wooyoung gasps and  _ dramatically  _ (again) he does as he slaps a palm over his mouth. Then, he furrows his eyebrows and asks, “How dare you say that? We are the orbits!”

  
  


“The what?” Seonghwa scoffs and Jongho lets out a chuckle as he stands up from behind the drum set and plops on the couch nearby. With a smug smile, he explains to the older, “He’s talking about the band logo. They’re the orbits there, which should tell you already that they  _ are  _ a part of the band with or without the instruments.”

  
  


Seonghwa feels a little more perplexed that he already is. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t even seen the band logo yet, so a part of him doesn’t really want to believe that they  _ actually  _ included their outside friends in the concept. But then again, Jongho seems to be the most believable member of the band; from his words, he seems genuine and serious. And he doesn’t understand.

  
  


What does Strawberry Cosmos have that he’s never had?

  
  


“But, why?” he asks again and Jongho exhales sharply before he opens his mouth to speak, but it is in that moment when the original members finally arrive in the room, hurrying their ways to the couch where they usually leave their bags and immediately bringing their instruments close to their bodies. Seonghwa takes this as a cue for him to stop and then heads over to the couch where he quietly sits, keeping all the questions to himself.

  
  


The practice then goes on like usual except this time, they have a setlist to prepare for. Mingi told him on Wednesday that the school invited them to perform at the yearly prom in February. He also stated it would be great if Seonghwa joins them already before said event; they would  _ kill it _ , according to his words. But Seonghwa chooses to maintain his stand. He has to be extra careful, deciding on his own rather than leaving it to the stars.

  
  


He doesn’t want to make the same mistake again.

  
  


Therefore, Seonghwa sits there on the couch, arms across his stomach, and watches the band, just as per usual.

  
  


And just as per usual, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and San sit there in the corner. Sometimes eyes on their phones, playing games every now and then. Sometimes fix their gazes upon the band with parted mouths. And everytime a song finishes, they would  _ drop  _ their phones to their laps to clap their hands and San would whistle victoriously. And Hongjoong would softly giggle every damn time.

  
  


Are they a part of the band just for the moral support?

  
  


If that’s the case, aren’t they just fans? 

  
  


Seonghwa can never comprehend or at least bring himself to. He can never see what’s so special about these three friends that they had to include them in everything - practices, members, and even in their band logo itself. He can never see why even though one of them tries to show him what they have during one time.

  
  


The same Friday has Seonghwa wondering for the whole time while they are practicing. Usually, every after around 30 minutes of practice, the band would go on a break. This actually means Hongjoong, working on what seems to be their original song for the upcoming battle with Mingi; Yunho and Jongho, singing and playing songs on their acoustic guitars (this is also when Seonghwa finds out how amazingly talented their youngest is); and the other friends fooling around the room, being even louder than they already are.

  
  


It’s almost like their break time isn’t even an actual  _ break  _ time, but another moment for them to focus on what they initially do - music, laughter, games, and all - while Seonghwa, like the usual, sits on the battered couch, observing and studying every move of the band - his favorite pastime while no one in the room dares to talk to him.

  
  


Wooyoung once tried to talk to him during his first visit into their practice and asked him if he plays games. But as soon as Seonghwa replied with a flat no, the younger frowned and left. The boy, if Seonghwa has read him right, seems to be very straightforward. Not afraid of the truth. He finds that a very cool trait.

  
  


On the other hand, San is the whiny and pouty boy who would  _ scream  _ when Wooyoung snatches the phone from his hands right after he loses the game and would playfully slap his friend when he laughs at him audibly loud once he makes a mistake. Seonghwa rather finds him a sensitive boy. Therefore, it’s interesting to watch his bond with Wooyoung.

  
  


The last boy on the friends list is Yeosang, who, for some reason, always catches Seonghwa’s eyes. He’s usually quiet and reserved, someone who simply smiles and laughs in the background. That’s probably the reason why Seonghwa finds himself glancing at the boy a little longer than he intends to.

  
  


He reminds him of who he used to be.

  
  


Seonghwa finds this so interesting. It’s almost like a mirror.  _ Almost  _ because even so, Yeosang has people around him and Seonghwa had none.

  
  


He and Yeosang may be similar in some ways - how they are quiet, timid, reserved, the watchers from the background, but the latter has six people around him. He has a band he belongs in. And he looks so happy. So alive.

  
  


Maybe that’s the huge difference in between.

  
  


Moreover, even though Yeosang is usually shy just like who Seonghwa was, he tries to approach when he wants to. He never backs down. He knows what he wants and he would do it for sure.

  
  


So, in the middle of break time, while Seonghwa is lost in observing Hongjoong and Mingi from the distance, Yeosang plops down on the seat next to him, causing the older to flinch, startled. The younger heaves a sigh and clasps his hands together as if he wants Seonghwa to take notice that he is trying to initiate a conversation between the two of them. However, no word comes out of his mouth. Instead, he grabs the guitar nearby, holds it in his arms, and places it on his lap.

  
  


As his slender fingers take a hard attempt on pressing on the fret, his other hand sweeps through the strings, making a very unpleasant sound, an unorganized harmony that makes Seonghwa scoff. Yeosang heaves another sigh before he finally speaks, “I regret not learning the guitar at an early age.”

  
  


Seonghwa is still surprised over the fact that one of these surrounding people want to talk to him, so it takes a short while for him to process what the younger has just said and to finally respond. “You can still learn, though.” He shrugs as he watches the other do a chord that Seonghwa has never ever seen before.

  
  


“Will you teach me?”

  
  


He lets out a chuckle and glances away. “I have nothing to teach you anymore.”

  
  


“Why?” Yeosang asks and in a tone that would most likely make Seonghwa crack, opening up a so-called pandora box he has been keeping within himself for so long. “On Monday, you said you aren’t able anymore. What happened?” he speaks again when he notices Seonghwa has been quiet for a moment.

  
  


“It just happened,” he replies and tries so hard to keep his answer short as if he doesn’t want to be read at all. Seonghwa isn’t used to opening up to people. He would always rather keep everything else to himself. No matter how heavy the matters could be, he would always prefer to keep it locked in his box and carry it on his shoulders on his own. It has always been like that. 

  
  


So, even when he  _ probably  _ knows the answer to Yeosang’s question, he would rather keep his mouth shut.

  
  


And even when he’s heard the rumors, Seonghwa keeps his mouth shut.

  
  


“Ah,” Yeosang hums, “I get it,” he continues. It catches Seonghwa off-guard. It’s a response he has never expected from anyone.

  
  


But then again, this is Yeosang. Perhaps, the kid has gone through a similar thing. After all, he is somewhat like a mirror to him. Someone that reminds him of his past. Someone who he used to be.

  
  


“You do?”

  
  


Yeosang chuckles and shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. That’s what friends usually tell each other anyway, so I said that.”

  
  


_ Friends. _

  
  


“So, you don’t?” Seonghwa asks in a tone now sounding even more curious than he already was. 

  
  


The younger shrugs again, eyes fixed on somewhere far into the small room. He hums for a while, his fingers sometimes rubbing across his chin as he thinks. Then, he starts, “It’s like in art. Sometimes, I’m able to make a good piece. One of those times is when I drew the band logo. But after that, I’m suddenly unable. I suddenly suck. It’s a frustrating process, but it really happens when you love something. It’s not always a smooth flow.” Yeosang ends with a small smile playing by his lips, perhaps a little too confident, a little too proud he might have read the older right.

  
  


But, he didn’t.

  
  


Seonghwa lets out a scoff. The mirror in front of him now shatters into nothing but debris on the ground, sticking into his feet until they bleed. And Seonghwa simply laughs the pain away as he dismissively says, “It’s nothing like that.”

  
  


Yeosang finally looks over to him, tearing his eyes off the corner of the room as he is now more intrigued by the other boy next to him.

  
  


“My flow has found its end. It’s all gone. It’s dead.”

  
  


Yeosang opens his mouth, about to say another word, but it’s a little too late as Hongjoong already calls for the end of their break and for another practice and the leader would not want anyone being noisy talking while they play. At first, Seonghwa thought it was too strict of him, but now, after all of these, he’s rather grateful.

  
  


Seonghwa appreciates Yeosang, though. He is happy to know that someone out there has tried to reach out to him, asked him, and even pretended he understood him because sometimes, lies can be comforting, too. So, he is actually thankful, but he doesn’t understand why Yeosang did it. Why did he even  _ try  _ to be there for him?

  
  


The more Seonghwa asks himself the same question, the louder a word rings in his head.

  
  


_ Friends. _

  
  


He tries to shake the word off his mind and focuses on watching the band instead.

  
  


Jongho begins to count off, clashing his sticks against each other. Then, Yunho sings into the microphone, hands around the stand, eyes shut closed, while the rest of the members wait for their turn to come in.

  
  


Just as when the chorus arrives, everybody else begins to play their own instruments, coming all together in harmony. Hongjoong sometimes plays around, maybe working on his individual performance while he plays the lead. 

  
  


And Seonghwa silently smiles to himself as he sits on the battered couch of the small music room. He thinks that from all the times he has spent with the group of seven friends, he realizes two things:

  
  


  1. Strawberry Cosmos is a whole lot different from Horizon; and finally



  
  


  1. Their lead guitarist. The one whose hair is as red as strawberries. The one who Seonghwa used to watch a lot from the opposite corner of the room while he played the guitar when they were freshmen. 



  
  


Kim Hongjoong.

  
  


Yeah _. He’s pretty. _

  
  


Seonghwa doesn’t remember when and how it all began. It’s not like he had always looked at the other the same way ever since. Sure, he might have watched him a lot when they were freshmen, but he is certain it’s not like  _ this.  _ He used to admire only the way he plays the guitar and how he was always so passionate and confident about it; so bad he would brag about it all around the room until he was sure everyone in their class had heard him.

  
  


Three years later, now that Seonghwa has been watching the way Hongjoong performs with his band, the way he leads them, how he works hard and pours his everything into things he cares so much about, he starts to glow a little too brightly for him. Not too dazzling nor too blinding. Perhaps just a tiny red spark amidst the dark.

  
  


But it’s enough to catch Seonghwa’s eyes every time.

  
  


It happens too frequently, actually. Seonghwa visits their every band practice to observe the  _ whole  _ band and not just  _ one  _ member (that one member being Hongjoong, of course), but he ends up doing the latter too often, making everything else just a background music of the hopeless romantic film playing in his head, starring him and the red-haired guitarist.

  
  


Sometimes, it’s not only in their band practices, but in class lectures, too. It shouldn’t bug Seonghwa that much as he doesn’t care so much about a thing or two about his academics, but when Hongjoong catches him looking, then grunts a little, and looks away, that’s when Seonghwa wants to slap a palm right on his face.

  
  


He tries to distract himself as much as possible, though, which is a rather hard attempt at keeping his eyes away from the red-haired boy. He would look at the lecturer up front if only Hongjoong wasn’t sitting in the row before him, diagonally across, and he knows to himself his eyes would end up landing on his vibrant colored hair instead of on their tedious history lecturer.

  
  


So, he would rather avert his gaze and do what he usually does - get lost in the winter sky. 

  
  


Like music, it’s one of the things that can never be taken away from him. He already got used to it as he started the freshman year in the new school having no one and nothing but the upper atmosphere. He would sit right next to a window just so he could look up and daydream about flying with the clouds - free and happy. Even when he already had the band Horizon, it still felt nice to him and it would always feel nice to know he somehow had a friend whatever the season was.

  
  


From all the hours he had spent in mundane classes, Seonghwa knows nothing could ever take his eyes off those friendly clouds. Even when the spring sun blinds his eyes or when their teacher calls for a surprise quiz, his eyes are always fixed on them.

  
  


But when he feels a crumpled paper thrown at him, that’s only when Seonghwa flinches and snaps his head around. 

  
  


He scans across the room, looking for any glance aimed at him, but there is none. Although confused, he studies the crumpled paper now behavedly sitting on his desk before he quietly unfolds it open, revealing a very short note in a writing that is so familiar.

  
  


_ Quiz. 15 mins. _

  
  


Seonghwa has seen this penmanship before. He has seen this in one of the band practices during breaks. He has seen this when Mingi approached and showed him their progress on the band’s original song. It’s a writing that looks… cute, varying in lengths, but rather comprehensible. And it’s a manner which one would not expect to be written by a boy - a strawberry-haired boy.

  
  


Especially that it’s thrown by  _ him _ . That is unexpected.

  
  


Seonghwa knows (or at least his guts know) that the band’s lead guitarist is not very fond of him. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t remember a single thing he’s done that has put the other in harm. 

  
  


Hongjoong is almost always  _ cold  _ towards him and when not, he’s challenging him. He would tell him to play it in the guitar besides how many times Seonghwa has said he  _ can’t _ . It’s almost like the other is just fooling around with him, teasing him more, or maybe just wants to prove to everyone in their high school that he’s the best guitarist.

  
  


Well, Seonghwa can’t argue with that.

  
  


Now that Hongjoong is aware that there’s another guitarist in existence and being praised, he can’t stomach that in. His pride and ego are too big for him to take that in. So, he keeps on denying that they  _ need  _ Seonghwa in the band and keeps on refusing the proximity Seonghwa wants.

  
  


Thus, this note is on a whole other level of unexpected.

  
  


Seonghwa silently grins to himself, a little bigger than he intends to, as he writes his response right under the other’s words. 

  
  


_ I know. Why are you telling me? _

  
  


Then, he checks if the teacher in front is looking before he immediately crumples the paper and throws it right at the back of Hongjoong’s head.

  
  


He hears him grunt a little, sending him a short glare before he bends down and picks up the paper from the floor. Seonghwa watches him unfold it open and read the note, the expression on his face changing as his eyes go further to the end. As soon as Hongjoong’s through with writing, he throws it right at Seonghwa’s face, sharp edges hitting the bridge of his nose.

  
  


Seonghwa tries his best not to laugh so hard as he bends down and picks the note up. He more than excitedly opens it and reads his response.

  
  


_ U were lost in the sky ! again ! so how would u know? Dumbass. _

  
  


That’s exactly when Seonghwa fails to stifle his laugh, finally bursting chortles through his lips, making a very funny sound that got the other shaking his shoulders in laughter, too. 

  
  


_ You were lost in the sky. _ Seonghwa starts to think Hongjoong might have been used to writing lyrics here and there that everything he writes now sounds so poetic even in a funny context like this.

  
  


Seonghwa then grabs a pen again and starts to write. And the never-ending tossing of notes go on and on, totally forgetting that they are in the middle of a lecture and that they  _ indeed  _ have a quiz in less than 15 minutes, but bickering with each other seems to be more important to the two.

  
  


_ Im listening even when im “lost in the sky” u poetic dumbass _

  
  


_ liar. also what kind of a dumbass is poetic? dumbass.  _

  
  


_ you, dumbass. _

  
  


_ ure the dumbass _

  
  


_ No, you. Maybe if u studied for the upcoming quiz then u arent _

  
  


_ Maybe if ure not getting urself lost in the sky then- _

  
  


“Park Seonghwa,” a stern voice says, halting him in the middle of reading the new note Hongjoong has just thrown him, “Mind sharing the note you got with the class?”

  
  


Seonghwa gradually looks up from the paper in his hand to their middle-aged history teacher now standing a meter away from him, arms crossed across his chest, and glare shifting between the red-haired boy and him. He quietly gulps and nervously chews on his lower lip, debating whether he should really read the notes out loud or to flatly say no (the latter sounds so funny in his head and he’s trying so hard not to laugh out loud and madden the old man before him more).

  
  


“Or maybe Mr. Kim Hongjoong would like to?” Mr. Jung adds when Seonghwa decides to stay silent.

  
  


Said Mr. Kim Hongjoong crosses his arms across his chest and pridely looks up to the teacher in front. And just like the image Seonghwa had in his head, Hongjoong blurts out a flat “No.”

  
  


Seonghwa gapes, a silent gasp coming from his lips, which is the total opposite of Mingi and Yunho who  _ audibly  _ coo from the back of the room, even laughing as they do. He glances over to Hongjoong, checking if the latter has the slightest tinge of regret somewhere on his face, but there is none, as if he has lost all the care in the world. 

  
  


_ Brave. _

  
  


Maybe Seonghwa is starting to like him more.

  
  


“No?” Mr. Jung says and scoffs, an unamused smile playing by his lips for a moment. Seonghwa finds this as a relief until his face drops to an obvious frown and angrily retorts, “Out. You two.”

  
  


Seonghwa looks up to their teacher with questioningly wide eyes, wondering whether he has heard it right; whether he really has to go out as well with the red-haired boy. When Mr. Jung only stands there as if he’s waiting for him to finally stand up from his seat and leave the class, that’s when Seonghwa gets his confirmation.

  
  


He’s leaving the class with Hongjoong.

  
  


He will be in an after-class detention with him.

  
  


_ Nice. _

  
  


Seonghwa walks right behind the strawberry-haired boy, following him outside the room before he shuts the door close. Both of them then stand against the wall, right in the empty hallways, with a safe distance in between, as if they move an inch closer, it would suddenly be the end of the world.

  
  


(He’s finally alone with Hongjoong, so it wouldn’t matter if the world ends now.)

  
  


Just a couple seconds in and Hongjoong already decides to slide his back against the wall and sit down on the floor, crossing his legs across each other, his head tilted backwards. Although hesitantly, Seonghwa joins him and falls down on the floor as well, long legs sprawled out and hands stuck by his sides.

  
  


He heaves a long,  _ long  _ sigh and he could be doing anything just to break the goddamn, awkward silence filling in the empty hallways and the safe distance in between while hoping as well the other would stoop low and finally talk to him. Seonghwa is sure Hongjoong hasn’t talked with him properly yet since Monday - ever since the very first day they had asked him into the band. The other is always so carefully doing his very best to avoid him.

  
  


Seonghwa thinks it’s very childish of him, though, - always allowing his infamous pride and ego to keep him away - but he also thinks it’s a fun challenge. Something he can tease him about. If Hongjoong hates him so much, then Seonghwa would take that as a cue to push himself more even until the other is miffed or not. 

  
  


But their history teacher has made it so easy for him instead.

  
  


Now that they are alone together outside the classroom and in the empty hallways, Hongjoong should have no other choice but to do what he hates the most.

  
  


“This is your fault,” Hongjoong finally speaks up, already beginning the fun Seonghwa has been shamefully imagining in his mind, “We have a band practice later, but now I have to spend the first hour stuck in a room with you  _ again _ because of you  _ again _ .”

  
  


Seonghwa scoffs - the best option to keep himself from smiling any bigger. “How is it my fault?” he asks in a challenging tone as he folds one knee to his chest and places an arm right on top, his eyes now fixed on the frowning red-haired boy by his side. Hongjoong has a little pout in his lips and gaze far too deep across; maybe pondering, maybe apprehending Seonghwa even more. The latter doesn’t know; he’s always too hard to read.

  
  


“Well, if you weren’t so into the sky, I wouldn’t be throwing you a note,” Hongjoong explains slowly, slurring out the words as if he’s so not in the mood to talk with the other, but still feels the need to do so; otherwise, it’s the inevitable awkward silence to be faced instead and both of them aren’t very fond of that.

  
  


“If you  _ didn’t  _ throw me a note, we wouldn’t be here,” Seonghwa counters with a voice resounding confidence, even though it’s probably too early to think he has won this round of their constant bantering.

  
  


“If you didn’t throw me one  _ back _ , we wouldn’t be here.”

  
  


“If you didn’t say that to Mr. Jung, we wouldn’t be here.”

  
  


It is then Hongjoong’s turn to scoff as he hugs his knees close to his chest. He smirks snarkily and dismissively as he presses his lips against his knees. Quietly -  _ oh  _ so quietly - he murmurs, “If I didn’t, then you would be alone here.”

  
  


Shocked and amused, Seonghwa straightens his back right against the wall behind. He raises his brows, lips twitch to a small yet delightful smile as he takes a moment to process the words that might have just come from the supposedly-hard-shelled, strawberry-haired Hongjoong. He begins to think since when has the other cared so much? He can only laugh, so, so loud it bounces off the walls of the empty corridor and irritates through the other boy’s ears, who is finally regretting being so honest. “What?” Seonghwa says, at last, right after he calms down from all the laughter.

  
  


“Don’t make me say it again,” Hongjoong mutters sternly, jaws clenched, fists balled firmly as if he is very certain that he will  _ never  _ dare speak up again.

  
  


“Oh, I will,” Seonghwa chortles once more, still finding the words he has just heard unbelievable when he used to think it to be nearly impossible to crack his outer shell. Despite all the times which should prove that Hongjoong is not a very friendly person, Seonghwa still believes the guy has a rather soft heart, beating a perfect rhythm somewhere beneath the iron armor. He has witnessed his passion in music; that alone should be credible evidence. He just can’t believe he would see that beating, soft heart  _ now _ . It seems too early.

  
  


Or perhaps he has learned it from his closest friend - Mingi. Looking back, if Seonghwa would compare the current scenario to one he had been in before, it would be the infamous cafeteria incident from when they were 15 and in sophomore year. “This reminds me of some heroic shit you did two years ago,” Seonghwa chuckles, his eyes now fleeting to the opposing wall as the memory awfully yet vividly replays in his mind.

  
  


He remembers the stinky smell of curry, bits of chicken in his hair and on his coat, and he can still see how Hongjoong swung his arms before he threw the box of milk right on Jiwon and how Mingi came behind him, joining him in with snarky remarks. It was all in slow motion before Seonghwa left the scene.

  
  


“How?” Hongjoong asks flatly, clearly not getting his point.

  
  


“Your friends join in if you can’t save them, huh?” Seonghwa says, now realizing, as the same old movie plays in his head again and again, a certain scene replaying itself until remembered to its very least detail.

  
  


“What do you mean?”

  
  


“Mingi joined in right after you threw the box of milk at Jiwon,” Seonghwa explains. “He wasn’t able to stop you from the start.”

  
  


“Oh,” Hongjoong bobs his head, the memory of an incident from two years ago now hitting him. He laughs a bit, perhaps still finding the memory rather entertaining. Seonghwa can’t argue with that, though. If only he weren’t feeling too lost on that day, he might as well laugh; and loudly, he would - any manner that could annoy the hell out of Jiwon and any manner to avenge himself. 

  
  


“Yeah. It was really funny. When we were called to the office and Mrs. Kang asked Mingi why he put his nose in, too, he said he just wanted to ‘cause I was there. Even said that he wouldn’t let me have something he couldn’t have,” he laughs and for the first time that day, he doesn’t hide it away from the other boy.

  
  


“See what I was trying to say? You guys wouldn’t leave each other alone,” Seonghwa smiles to himself, small yet happily enough.

  
  


“Eh,” Hongjoong shrugs. “It’s not like we intentionally do it.”

  
  


Seonghwa tears his eyes off the opposing wall, tilts his head, and finally faces the boy by his side. No words needed, Hongjoong gets this gesture and takes it as a cue for him to proceed. “I don’t really give a shit about you, but then I was suddenly there with a box of milk in my hand. And then, I’m suddenly there, answering back to Mr. Jung. There’s just- there’s always something that baffles or - like - bothers me when I know someone is on the edge.”

  
  


Seonghwa scoffs and chooses to ignore the first few words. “So, you’re saying you’re a hero?”

  
  


“No. I don’t know,” Hongjoong replies, eyes now staring into the void. He seemingly has ended up deep into his thoughts, lost yet wandering, just like when Seonghwa admires the sky of every season. “I guess I just grew up as a helper. That’s all. Who knows? Maybe I am Jesus,” he concludes with a joke, making Seonghwa chuckle along.

  
  


(That’s funny how it became his habit to help when it became Seonghwa’s habit to always end up getting hurt.)

  
  


“So, you think it’s the same for Mingi, too?” Seonghwa asks, curious for answers, “When he saw what you did to Jiwon and maybe reckoned you’d end up getting into trouble, do you think he just jumped in there ‘cause that thought bothered him a lot?”

  
  


Hongjoong shrugs yet again. “Or maybe because I’m his best friend.”

  
  


Seonghwa clasps his hands together rather excitedly, the sound surprising the other, startled as he eyes him. A bright smile grows bigger in his face, but instead of the usual sweet and warm, it’s  _ smug _ \- a clear intent on teasing the strawberry-haired boy, who is now rolling his eyes as he already knows what’s to come. “Just say I am now your friend and go.”

  
  


Hongjoong groans and scoots even further away from Seonghwa, the safe distance in between widening than ever before. “I am  _ not  _ Mingi and you are not my friend.”

  
  


And even if Hongjoong tells him that a hundred times, Seonghwa would still playfully insist that he is;

  
  


But playfully.

  
  


Friend is a big word; Seonghwa learns that from his 17 years of existence and a portion of watching Strawberry Cosmos every now and then. It’s foolish to think Hongjoong would consider him as one that quickly when he himself can’t even let  _ anyone  _ back in, still can’t open his doors wide open, still fearful that the mess of his once home may be unconcealed to the naked eye so soon.

  
  


Therefore, everything should be playful first. Everything should be nothing but a joke. No serious matters. Just amusing banters here and there, lots of teasing, and laughter shared in empty corridors.

  
  


Even if Hongjoong has saved him twice this time, it is all a  _ joke _ .

  
  


However, Seonghwa can’t deny that it feels nice.

  
  


He is maybe a little thankful that Hongjoong answered back to Mr. Jung earlier; otherwise, he would be in this hallway at 2 in the afternoon alone. It’s not like it is something new to him. He has always been alone anyway and he prefers to be one. But, he can’t deny that this - sitting in an empty hallway, legs all sprawled out across the tiled floor, bickering at every chance grasped, and with a red-haired boy by his side - this feels nicer than being alone.

  
  


Or maybe it is just because this is Kim Hongjoong he is talking about. He’s pretty. He’s interesting. And Seonghwa has always found it exciting to spend a little time with him - whether it is in a band practice or a small talk in the classroom. Now that he has him, he can’t help but keep smiling.

  
  


Either way, Seonghwa doesn’t really know which is right and doesn’t really understand why it is. Nor is he bothered enough to want to know. What matters is that it feels  _ nice.  _

  
  


And when Hongjoong waited for him to finish his test during their after-class detention, when both of them arrive at the music room together side-by-side, when all eyes of the band are on them (and Mingi’s lips stretching into such an excited smile);

  
  


And when Seonghwa realizes that,  _ at last _ , he didn’t come here on his own;

  
  


It feels nicer than he thought it would.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are escalating ? hhh
> 
> check the vinyl sleeve art my friend [lai](https://twitter.com/ninety8tz) did on the official [twitter!](https://twitter.com/strwbrrycosmos/status/1258777590984142849?s=20)


	5. American Spirits - Inner Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever felt like… dead? Even when you’re alive and breathing?”
> 
> “When I’m asleep.”
> 
> **_04 American Spirits - Inner Wave_ **
> 
> ✩ = Hongjoong  
> ☾ = Seonghwa

✩

  
  


If the band of seven friends isn’t at the school’s music room, they would be either at the convenience store a couple blocks away or at Jongho’s house on a Saturday.

  
  


As they are now preparing for two upcoming events, - one for prom in February and the highly awaited battle in April - they spend the Saturday afternoon at the youngest’s house.

  
  


Jongho seemed to have a problem with it at first. It’s in his nature to not like having other people in his house and to hate having the responsibility to accommodate them - make and bring them sandwiches and glasses of juice, guide them to where the washroom is, clean up their mess afterwards. Jongho prefers to stay in his room and away from everybody else.

  
  


Especially that it’s Strawberry Cosmos who is coming over. The band of seven friends has grown comfortably the more the days have passed by and they start to ask for whatever appears to be the impossible things. They joke about asking Jongho to turn on the non-existent air conditioner in their garage, Mingi sometimes (jokingly) demands a bed only in order for him to sleep, and for some time even asking him to sing him a lullaby. He hates _this._

  
  


But he really doesn’t have much of a choice. He is the only one fortunate enough to have a complete band set in their garage. Plus, with the promenade party nearing and so is the thrilling battle of the bands, they seriously need to have Saturday practices, too.

  
  


It’s not like they are still unprepared nor unpolished. In fact, they hardly have any mistakes performing the songs in their setlist. It’s just nerve-wracking. It has always been ever since Horizon disappeared.

  
  


The old band had left such huge shoes for them to fill in. Just from their very first performance, they already had everyone in the room into them.

  
  


Unfortunately, it’s not the same case for Hongjoong and his friends. 

  
  


And it’s okay.

  
  


Hongjoong always tells himself and the band that. _It’s okay._

  
  


He is aware that they are slowly rising, considering they are getting bigger and bigger events momentarily. Although, it might be a little too late considering they - except Jongho - will be finishing high school a couple months later. But, it’s okay. Hongjoong reckons there is nothing better than leaving high school with a so-called ‘legacy’ - that he is, once upon a time, a lead guitarist of a very cool band along with his very cool friends. 

  
  


So, it is okay.

  
  


The three words might be the only one that could sum up all the things still pushing them to do this. It is okay if they’re a band who’s not so praised in their high school yet. It is okay if they don’t meet the crowd’s standards. It is okay if they’re not as great as the locally well-known Horizon.

  
  


It is okay because it is not _them_. And they wouldn’t be happy to be someone else.

  
  


Hongjoong makes sure he reminds the band that every time he gets the chance - when he sees them sighing, when he finds them already on the verge, when he sees them nearly hopeless. It’s such a surprise that a simple three words can give them so much strength.

  
  


Who knows? It must be why they are all here at Jongho’s garage on a Saturday. It must be why their hands are still on their instruments or raised above their heads, cheering for their peers. 

  
  


It must be why Strawberry Cosmos still exists. It must be because they are _okay._

  
  


Hongjoong exhales deeply and falls right onto the floor. He sits cross-legged and props himself up with his hands behind. They have been playing non-stop for over half an hour and Hongjoong is breathless from all the jumping around the small space. He silently reminds himself that it is okay to take a break, too.

  
  


Jongho then comes jogging back into the room with a tray of glasses and a jar of cold water. Yunho is the first to approach and is just about to get himself one until the younger reprimands him about drinking cold water after singing. 

  
  


“But it’s so hot! I’m sweating, I've been jumping around!” Yunho whines, stomping his foot onto the cement as if he is throwing a fit with his mom, who, in this case, is none other than Jongho. 

  
  


“I don’t care. I’ll get you lukewarm,” Jongho retorts as he slaps Yunho’s hand, “Hongjoong hyung, watch over Yunho.”

  
  


Said Hongjoong hyung giggles as he hovers a hand over an eyebrow for what appears to be a salutation. “Aye-aye, captain!” he exclaims before he threatens Yunho with his index finger. The younger cannot do anything else, but to sit with Mingi and wait for his special water.

  
  


The moment Jongho arrives back in with another bottle of water is when Hongjoong feels his phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans. Puzzled, he furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t expect to get a message from anyone at all on a Saturday afternoon considering he is with all of his friends. It could be from his parents, but then again, they know he would be at Jongho’s crib. There shouldn’t be any message from them unless there is an emergency.

  
  


Nevertheless, Hongjoong still pulls his phone out and checks it right away. When he sees the text, that’s when he finds out who has been missing all this time.

  
  


_From:_ **_seonghwa_ **

_sorry im late lol at the convenience store now_

  
  


Right. Hongjoong has almost forgotten about Park Seonghwa and how he would be there in their every band practice, even though Hongjoong still thinks it’s utter nonsense.

  
  


“Seonghwa is at the convenience store,” he announces to the band, immediately catching everyone’s attention just by the mention of the name. Hongjoong doesn’t know why either. Lately, he notices some of them have been really intrigued about the dark-haired guy.

  
  


Mingi is no longer a surprise. He has always been interested in Park Seonghwa since day one. Hongjoong would think his best friend had a crush on him if only Mingi doesn’t constantly tease him with Seonghwa to the point he might as well sell his best friend’s soul to the other. No one can ever know what Mingi is capable of.

  
  


Hongjoong has noticed it about Yeosang, too. He has seen the latter talking with the newbie during one of their breaks. From what he has seen, they seem to be having a deep exchange of thoughts. It’s not a surprising fact about Yeosang for the boy, as artistic he is, always does that. What surprises Hongjoong is _how_ he got Seonghwa involved in that.

  
  


Wooyoung and San are the fresh case. They have been _very_ friendly with Park Seonghwa lately. Hongjoong doesn’t know if he should be scared or something. He knows these two very well, has been friends with them for years, but there are times when they are very hard to read. One of such times is this. No one knows what they want with Seonghwa - to be friends or just to _extract_ something out of him, like a truth, perhaps. 

  
  


They could mean friendship, but Hongjoong can never see the point of it. As far as he knows and as deep as he observes, Seonghwa would most likely not join, probably just wasting his precious time with people he doesn’t know. If he joins, though, he would most likely leave right after the battle, right after he gets what he wants.

  
  


Hongjoong must add: he _definitely_ has no problem with Seonghwa not joining nor him leaving. _Definitely not._

  
  


What he would mind is if Seonghwa puts any of his friends into harm, if ever he makes the same mistake again, only if ever what Hongjoong has heard is true.

  
  


“Tell him I’m on my way,” Jongho says while putting on a beanie over his head, preparing himself for the cold breeze outside.

  
  


Hongjoong nods and waves him goodbye. Right after he watches him leave is when he only texts Seonghwa back.

  
  


_To:_ **_seonghwa_ **

_jonghos on the way_

  
  


Not even a minute after when his phone buzzes again. Hongjoong guesses Seonghwa must be out in the cold, waiting for a response all this time. And he doesn’t know how his mind gets there, but he silently hopes Jongho could fetch him this instant.

  
  


_From:_ **_seonghwa_ **

_ure not coming ?_

  
  


Hongjoong furrows his eyebrows over the reply, perplexed. He doesn’t think he understands why the boy expects him to come.

  
  


_To:_ **_seonghwa_ **

_and why should i_

  
  


He takes the following minutes of no beeps nor buzzes as a hint that the other might not be responding anymore anytime soon. He pushes his phone back into where it was and silently hopes Jongho would already be there by the store. It’s not too far from the neighborhood anyway. It’s the very first thing to see right after the exit, only a few strolls away. As Hongjoong estimates, it shouldn’t take so much time for the two to arrive.

  
  


Hongjoong has his face twisted by the end of his train of thought. Why is he estimating their hours of arrival again?

  
  


He subtly shakes his head, careful not to be seen by his friends. 

  
  


However, it’s always and almost as if Mingi more than often has him on sight. The best friend snorts and shifts his gaze. Mingi presses his lips together and pretends he saw nothing. Hongjoong only frowns and raises his middle finger up.

  
  


“Hyung,” Yeosang calls and in a snap, Hongjoong’s attention flees towards him.. The boy plops down on the spot beside Hongjoong as gentle as a petal, as if he makes any bit of a noise, a glass would shatter to pieces. 

  
  


Hongjoong hums in response and flashes him an anticipating smile. He supposes this must be something exclusive enough for Yeosang to halt playing games on the phone with Wooyoung and San, which would be a rare occurrence. 

  
  


“Are you sure about taking Seonghwa hyung into the band?” he mumbles thoughtfully and carefully, wary that the others may hear. Unfortunately, Mingi is always on the lookout. Hongjoong notices how his ears have suddenly grown bigger and how his gaze immediately snaps to the brown-haired boy just by the mention of his name. 

  
  


Hongjoong lets out a chuckle. “Apparently, it’s us to be taken, Yeo. Not the other way around.”

  
  


Yeosang hums in thought for a short while before he starts again, “But, if he decides to join, you’re accepting him?”

  
  


Squinting his eyes, Hongjoong has no idea what Yeosang wants to deliver even though he tries the hardest to see through the boy. All this time Hongjoong muses Yeosang has taken a liking to Seonghwa, to the point he approached him in between their practices. And from what he had witnessed, he wouldn’t think that Yeosang would tell him this about the rookie. It should most likely be the total opposite.

  
  


Hongjoong slowly begins to nod, his head bobbing in a continuous rhythm as he is still in a trance. “If Yunho and Mingi like him so much, why not? I think it’s for the better, too.”

  
  


“Okay then,” Yeosang takes his turn to nod as he gently chews on his lower lip - a habit he subconsciously does when he’s itching to do something, to _say_ something. So, Hongjoong only looks and patiently waits, knowing there are more words to follow. 

  
  


“What is it?”

  
  


Yeosang glances over to him hesitantly, still chewing on his lower lip. It is in that time when Mingi decides to join in. He plops down as well right next to Hongjoong, crosses his legs, and fixes his eyes on the brown-haired boy.

  
  


“I talked with Seonghwa hyung before,” he finally starts after a few more moments of silence, a few more aggravating the anticipation, “I don’t think he can play the instrument anymore.”

  
  


“Ah,” Hongjoong exclaims, a confident smile returning to his face, “You mean, when I asked him to play the lead on the guitar, but he didn’t accept the challenge? I think that was just an act,” he laughs jovially, quite an unexpected attempt in livening the atmosphere surrounding them. Hongjoong even gives Mingi a glance, silently hoping his best friend would agree with him. But Mingi’s eyes hold worry, maybe concern. Hongjoong can’t find the word, but he knows his best friend is falling for Yeosang’s words.

  
  


“No, no. I don’t think so, hyung,” he shakes his heads and waves his arms as he insists, “At first, I thought he was just going through a major slump, so I even compared it to how I sometimes do with art. But then, he said it’s dead.”

  
  


“Dead?” says Hongjoong almost immediately.

  
  


Yeosang nods. “Dead,” he reassures.

  
  


“Who’s dead?” Hongjoong hears Wooyoung shout from a distance. Hongjoong has his back on the rest, but he is pretty sure their eyes are all on their phones as always playing games. So, he might as well be not bothered to respond.

  
  


“What do you mean ‘dead?’ He’s a ghost or something?” Mingi throws obliviously. Hongjoong nearly thinks the boy is simply fooling around, but when he looks over to him and sees his eyes wide and round in utter shock and curiosity, he can’t believe Mingi anymore.

  
  


Thank God, Yunho smacks him on the back of his head before he joins the little circle of “gossips” - even though Hongjoong would not like to call this as that - and friends.

  
  


“I don’t know. Even if I try to understand it, I don’t know,” Yeosang shrugs, dropping his shoulders heavily as if frustratedly giving up, “Have you ever felt like… _dead?_ Even when you’re alive and breathing?”

  
  


“When I’m asleep,” Mingi blurts out all of a sudden and thank _God,_ Yunho smacks the back of his head one more time. Hongjoong only chuckles it off, but deep down he so wants to slap a tape over Mingi’s mouth.

  
  


“Makes sense, but in hyung’s case, it would make more sense if we can relate it to music, yeah?” Yeosang laughs. He pats Mingi on his arm three times until the pout on the latter’s face disappears into a thin line.

  
  


Their so-called circle widens momentarily when Wooyoung and San at last decide to drop their phones and be attentive. Hongjoong reckons they must have been hearing such controversial things that might have distracted them while they were playing, ergo agreeing to let go of the game for once and join in.

  
  


Hongjoong does not really feel right when talking about someone that isn’t around. He has always been like this. It baffled him when Mingi shared with him all the info he got from Yeji. He might have snapped when he heard a few from his class talking about Park Seonghwa and Kang Jiwon. 

  
  


(And he wonders why Seonghwa always happens to be the talk of the town? _Poor boy._ )

  
  


Now _this._ Yeosang is usually the quiet, reserved type, the last person to care about high-school rumors, but perhaps, now that the band is involved, he opted for letting Hongjoong know.

  
  


He appreciates it, really. He understands the younger is probably just concerned - both for the band and for Park Seonghwa.

  
  


But it doesn’t erase the fact that it irks him to the core. He can never be comfortable with so-called “gossiping” or however they call it. He can never feel just hearing others storytell someone’s life as if it is a fairytale.

  
  


What irks him more is that Park Seonghwa always turns out to be the victim of this. The subject of every mail. The receiving end of every stare. Always the talk of the town Harry Potter must be humiliated. 

  
  


Or… 

  
  


_Or_ perhaps, his fairytale is the only ones Hongjoong gets to hear; almost as if the poor boy is asking for his help.

  
  


“I’ve read a quote about death once,” Wooyoung pops in, the few seconds of silence and pondering shattering.

  
  


“A quote?” San dismissively scoffs, “Since when do you read quotes?”

  
  


“I saw it as an ad!” Wooyoung argues back as he frowns at San, who can only laugh heartily in the end. “I remember it was from Martha Graham or something. It says-

  
  


_A dancer dies twice -_

_Once when they stop dancing,_

_And this first death is the more painful._

  
  


Every word repeats itself in Hongjoong’s head. It floats around like balls of stars in a vast, empty space - begging to be connected, begging to be fathomed; otherwise they might as well explode out of their never-ending loneliness and turn lifeless - turn _dead._

  
  


He does not know why the metaphor reminds him of Park Seonghwa. Is he a lonely star up in space - once begged to be fathomed, but has now bursted all its colors until the very last bit of its life drains?

  
  


_Is that why he feels so… dead?_

  
  


“Ohh,” the rest of them hum in sync for some odd reason.

  
  


There comes a pause afterwards that only seems to stretch out for eternity; a prolonged thought replaying in their heads like a broken record, seeking for melody that already appears to be out of reach nor seen with a naked eye; a fragile silence which no one dares to break into pieces, fearful it might struck the wrong vase. They only keep on thinking. No one speaks at all.

  
  


Until Mingi pops in all of a sudden and for a known reason, Yunho already has his hand prepared to hit him.

  
  


“So, like, when I am asleep.”

  
  


The boy sounds rather serious even though it’s the same, old tone he holds since the last time he spoke. Hongjoong is beginning to regret dismissing him earlier. He can only make it up by waiting for whatever there is next to come and earnestly lending his ears and all.

  
  


“I don’t consider myself asleep when I’m dreaming,” Mingi finally adds in. The words sound vague and blurry at first listen - a faint music from one’s neighbor’s room, muffled by thick, _thick_ walls until they are fragmented into fine debris. “So, when I’m not, I am asleep and it feels like I’m dead. It’s all just… blackness before my eyes.”

  
  


One would think Mingi is a dumbass for sharing something that appears to be so off the topic and that one is the actual _dumbass_ instead. 

  
  


Mingi is a genius and he has always been one. It’s just that he has a different choice for words; Hongjoong has learned this the more the time he spends with his best friend. In simplest terms, Mingi is not very good verbally, but there are for sure lots of complex concepts swimming in his head that even words themselves fail to compromise.

  
  


It only takes a pinch of patience, a few more squinting of eyes and, if necessary, distortion of faces, heads tilting to the side, hum in thoughts, and finally, slow bobs of the head to finally comprehend whatever Mingi is trying to say. He means to say that-

  
  


“Seonghwa lost his dream?” asks Hongjoong in hopes he has solved the case.

  
  


Mingi shrugs his shoulders, the never-fading, curious pout still playing by his lips. “Could be or his passion in music. I mean, he left Horizon, right?”

  
  


“If that’s the case, then why is he interested to join?” Wooyoung queries.

  
  


But Hongjoong can only shake his head and so do the rest. No one really knows why. No one knows what Seonghwa is up to, really. It’s odd enough that he’s only visiting their practices to see for himself if they pass in the Seonghwa Standards and it is now even stranger that they are finding out about his so-called death - mix it up with his now interest in being part of the band. 

  
  


Hongjoong wonders who can ever understand Seonghwa at all.

  
  


Curiosity is what always leads to discoveries. Theorists wonder how the universe is made and enter the Big Bang Theory. Scientists ponder _why_ this is happening and study… that (Hongjoong isn’t very good in Science, so…). No matter how big or small, it is always curiosity that leads to discoveries.

  
  


Even if it is as small as Hongjoong being inquisitive about _why_ Seonghwa feels dead and _why_ he is here with them now, it’s enough of a push for him to get the answer for himself.

  
  


And it might just be enough to push him even farther from what he needs.

  
  
  
  
  
  


☾

  
  


Seonghwa finds himself in someone else’s bedroom.

  
  


It’s a familiar place. He has been here a lot of times before. He has already memorized every placement of every element there is in that room - the bed just by the window, a study table next to it - though it’s more likely to be a “turntable table” as it is where all the collection of vinyls are played - sets of guitars on the opposite corner, various picks plastered on the wall, pretending to be stickers. There is not much to take note of, but this room holds stories; many of them which Seonghwa wishes not to be reminded of.

  
  


That should explain now why he is here, standing by the door, feet glued to the same spot of the floor. His eyes are fixed on the empty bed, where the white duvet lies there and is all disheveled.

  
  


In a blink, he spots a man. A _very_ familiar man. He sits on the edge of the bed, his head dipping low. His blue mop of hair is all unkempt and is now even worse as his fingers run through it, pushing his head up.

  
  


Then, their eyes meet. The man stares into Seonghwa. Plain blank eyes that hold no color as if burning a hole through the other’s head. Seonghwa tenses up and shudders. It’s suddenly hard for him to breathe. There is no one near him yet he feels a hand wrapped around his neck, choking him out of air. 

  
  


He wants to get out of there. He wants to run away and never turn back.

  
  


But when Jiwon gives him that crooked smile, Seonghwa exhales one last time, a tear rolls down his cheek one last time, and he smiles warmly yet sadly _one last time_ before the wooden floor under his feet cracks bit by bit, slowly turning into dust until it opens wide, revealing a never-ending darkness beneath.

  
  


Next thing Seonghwa knows is he is falling endlessly into the void. There’s nothing or no one to hold on to. There’s no one to save him. There’s no one to hear him out. When he looks up and sees Jiwon peeking through the hole, Seonghwa tries to scream but he cannot hear his own voice.

  
  


He has lost himself.

  
  


And there he goes. Falling down, and down, and down to a bottomless pit of nothingness. 

  
  


This is how he dies.

  
  


He has lost himself-

  
  


Seonghwa jolts awake. Snapping his eyes wide open, he pants and tries the hardest to catch for his breath. 

  
  


He throws a palm over his chest and grasps on it. _It’s just a dream_ , he reminds himself in between breaths and sweat breaking out on his forehead, _just a nightmare, actually_.

  
  


It is the same old nightmare that visits him at most times ever since he was 15. Although there may be differences in between - sometimes it’s in the school’s music room, sometimes it’s not Jiwon but himself, other times it’s in the classroom - either way, it always ends up with floors cracking wide open and Seonghwa falling into it no matter how hard he tries to run away.

  
  


He should be used to it by now, but he can’t bring himself to be. He tries to fight it off as much as he can - make his feet move off the floor or swing a fist over Jiwon’s jaw. He could be doing the hardest attempts only for him to keep on falling in the end.

  
  


Sitting up, Seonghwa glances over to the clock hanging above his door - 9:23 AM. He lets out a sigh, already tired despite just waking up. 

  
  


He is once again sleep deprived. For years, it has been difficult for him to fall asleep easily. There are times when he is just lucky enough to be exhausted, but there are also times when his mind would be too loud for him to bear.

  
  


Last night was one of those times. Despite plopping down on his bed at 10 in the evening, he had only fallen asleep when the first few rays of the sun seeped through his window sill. _Poor thing._ He suffered that much only to be face-to-face with the same old nightmare.

  
  


Usually, Seonghwa would spend the rest of the morning stuck up on his bed, quite fearful that if he lets his foot touch the ground, it would crack wide open and a void would swallow him alive. He knows to himself that is a lot far from reality to happen, but if one faces the same nightmare every damn night? Sometimes, the impossible wall between reality and dreams can apparently blur in.

  
  


As much as Seonghwa wants to stay in his room until he’s called for lunch, he can’t. The time reminds him it’s Saturday and he has to be at Jongho’s crib. Not that his presence in the band’s practices would do so much of a difference, but hey- it’s great to make a change in the routine sometimes. Seonghwa is just grateful the group of friends allows him.

  
  


Therefore, for the first time in years (he thinks), Seonghwa throws the duvet off his lap and slowly, _slowly_ lands his feet flat on the floor.

  
  


And the wood does not crumble to dust, does not crack open, and there is no void to eat him alive.

  
  


Seonghwa sighs in relief.

  
  


He then proceeds. From the rack behind his door, he grabs a beanie and a leather jacket, already preparing himself for the January breeze outside. He saunters out of his room and down the stairs, right from where he can see his mother in the living room whose eyes are fixed on her phone until Seonghwa hollers for her.

  
  


“I’m going to Jongho’s,” he says, short and simple, while he is already at the door.

  
  


“Jongho?” Mrs. Park stands up from the couch and turns to him. It’s obvious she wants to badger him more- no, _know_ him more - know her son more. “Is this your bandmate?”

  
  


Seonghwa stops and stares. Is he his bandmate?

  
  


He turns a head over his shoulder and smiles at Mrs. Park - small but reassuring. “I don’t know, mom. We’ll see.”

  
  


Seonghwa leaves with those as the last words to escape his lips. He shuts the door behind and shivers when he feels the cold, morning air grazing against his cheeks. He can bet his life right now that his skin is now in shades of pink.

  
  


On his way, he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He has to make sure where they would meet them. As far as he can remember, Hongjoong told him to wait by the convenience store, which, from there, should not be so far from Jongho’s house. 

  
  


Fortunately as it turns out, Jongho meets him at said store only a few minutes later since he sent his last message to Hongjoong. No more words needed and the both of them then begin their trip to Jongho’s crib.

  
  


And it’s silent as the cold breeze. Only the freezing wind blowing past by can be heard like whispers of the early morning, untold stories, and masked sufferings. And it baffles Seonghwa for some odd reason as he walks a ruler behind the younger.

  
  


Now that he thinks about it, he realizes he has not been talking much with the youngest. Not like he talks a lot with the whole band, but he’s pretty sure he has spent some time with most of them; Yunho had once asked him how he would sing a certain part of the song; Wooyoung and San had tried to play mobile games with him; he had some serious discussions with Yeosang; and finally, that detention shenanigan with Hongjoong. 

  
  


With Jongho, Seonghwa thinks this is the first time.

  
  


The first time sadly turns out to be the quietest. Seonghwa is not much of a talker, but if he is alone with someone, he more than often urges himself to _talk_ or at least be a good companion. He would not want to bore Jongho out.

  
  


So Seonghwa clears his throat and leaves himself to the flow of the wind. It is now all up to whatever his mind would make out of this situation. “Jongho, why do you like drums?”

  
  


_Nice._ That’s almost like asking Robert Hooke why he loved biology or why Juliet loved Romeo so much _or_ why in the world Jack had to die for Rose.

  
  


He hears the youngest tutter his tongue and chuckle. “Hyung, you don’t have to talk to me just to break the silence. I hate small talks.”

  
  


A short pause occurs then before Seonghwa replies, “And I hate silence.”

  
  


“Should I adjust for you? Pretend we’re the best of friends then.” Jongho sighs into a small smile as he turns around, walking backwards. He hums in thought. “So why do I like drums? It’s not that I like it and I don’t hate it either.”

  
  


Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “You’re not very passionate about it?”

  
  


“I don’t think passion is a necessity before you do something. I’m not like Hongjoong hyung,” Jongho chuckles and Seonghwa finds himself doing so, too. Then he turns around, back on the older, whose eyes are still fixed and in anticipation. “The first instrument I learned is the guitar. I was 7 and was really curious. I grew older musically inclined then, so I learned the other instruments - bass, piano, and the drums. It just so happens they found out I can play the drums out of everything I can do, so they had me in.”

  
  


“Huh,” Seonghwa exhales. He cannot seem to understand. “How do you enjoy it if you’re not passionate about it?”

  
  


Surprisingly, Jongho shrugs. “Dunno. There haven’t been many events for us, so I don’t know how you’d expect me to enjoy it,” he cackles and sighs, “But there’s something with the band that does magic. Being around them just feels different, you know?”

  
  


“What do you mean?”

  
  


A silent and short pause and Seonghwa nearly thinks Jongho would not hand him the answer he wants until he hears him say, “It’s not that I _love_ music or being in a band as much as Joong hyung does, but I stay just ‘cause it’s fun to be with them. And if endlessly hitting the drums is what it takes to be with them, I’d do it. Any excuse or reason there is is good enough.”

  
  


“Okay, but what if you don’t find it anymore fun to be with them? How about music?”

  
  


Jongho turns back around again. Seonghwa is thankful the streets are quiet and empty; otherwise, Jongho would not be able to walk backwards and Seonghwa would have to be extra cautious.

  
  


“If once in my life had I fun with them, there should be something to pick up from that, right? Whatever urge to continue, whatever push, whatever force. There’s gotta be something,” Jongho hums, eyes roaming around the twigs of the trees as he thinks. “But if they’re no longer fun for me, I won’t push myself. Is this about Horizon, hyung?”

  
  


Seonghwa stops on his steps all of a sudden, startled. His eyes slowly widen. A lump in his throat grows and he can’t bring himself to gulp it away. 

  
  


It’s just a band; just a name of his old group mentioned so casually as if it should not affect him this much. 

  
  


But it does. 

  
  


It does so badly that Seonghwa is frustrated and desperate for the guilt and regret to go and to leave him alone and to finally _let him sleep at night._

  
  


How fucked it is that one stupid mistake you did when you were 15 grew so big it still haunts you two years later.

  
  


Seonghwa muses that’s what nature calls the Snowball Effect. Too bad he happens to be one of the many victims of it.

  
  


Jongho must have noticed the odd expression on the older’s face. An abrupt regret hovers over his face, causing a halt in his steps as well. “Did I hit a nerve? Sorry,” he slowly says, now more careful than he ever was.

  
  


It’s in that moment when Seonghwa at last feels it easier to breathe. As soon as he realizes Jongho is standing in front of him, indicating that this is his _now_ \- that he is currently on his way to Jongho’s house to witness the rehearsal of a band named after a fucking _fruit_ and the universe, with a red-haired leader so grumpy, a straightforward drummer, foolish but bright guitarists, and _friends_ that hold no instruments but still take part in it - Seonghwa finds it easier to just… _breathe._

  
  


Because this is his now and he is no longer stuck in the past.

  
  


Now this could just be another of his band-aid solutions, another form of escapism, and a new, makeshift home to run away to. But he was once told it’s okay to grab onto something for a while before getting back up. Babies learn how to walk by holding onto their mothers or fathers’ hands or through walkers after all. 

  
  


17 years later and maybe there isn’t much of a difference since then.

  
  


“It’s okay,” Seonghwa tells Jongho, “It’s okay,” and maybe to himself, too.

  
  


Jongho heaves a sharp exhale. “Horizon is really that bad, huh?”

  
  


The younger then continues to walk and so does Seonghwa. He was informed the trip from the store to their house shouldn’t take so long, but heck- with all this talk, Seonghwa feels like they have been wandering through a vast desert with no sight of water anywhere even on the ending line.

  
  


Seonghwa clears his throat and deeply inhales, taking in the cold air through his nose. “They’re good. Too good, actually. Don’t even want to talk about it.”

  
  


“Okay then,” Jongho chuckles yet again.

  
  


And finally, he takes a turn to a small building in white. Right from where they are standing, Seonghwa can already hear Wooyoung screaming through the microphone and he quietly thanks the walls for muffling the shrieking and the laughter or else his ears might just bleed right then and there. But he has already heard that a lot of times and has _survived,_ standing still in resilience after a long war. He must be pretty immune to it by now.

  
  


Apparently, it is not the case for Jongho, who sighs rather exasperatedly at it. Then he raises a finger up and points it to the older as if threatening him as he says, “Don’t dare tell the others what I said about the band earlier. They would pester me about it.”

  
  


Seonghwa only nods his head. That evidently seems to be enough for the younger before he finally barges into the garage with the other following him behind.

  
  


“Jongho!” the friends shriek (and Wooyoung - yet again - to the microphone) as if their dear youngest has been gone for 38 years to fight a war. Said Jongho only and dismissively rolls his eyes, but after what Seonghwa heard from him awhile ago, he muses he should not believe the mask he puts up in front of them anymore.

  
  


“Seonghwa!” 

  
  


There goes the one and only voice that warmly welcomes him and an arm thrown over his shoulder. Seonghwa flinches and timidly looks over to his side. He sees Mingi’s beaming face and hears him ask, “How’s your walk with Jongho? Did he talk like a dad to you?”

  
  


Seonghwa furrows his eyebrows. “Dad?”

  
  


“You know, talking all deep and that.”

  
  


“ _Yah!_ ” Jongho shouts from behind the drumset before he throws a stick right at Mingi. Thank God the latter catches it perfectly in his hands. It nearly hit Seonghwa on the face

  
  


Now that he thinks about it, Jongho did sound like he was way older than Seonghwa before and that automatically made him feel smaller and _dumber._ He could not do anything about it. Their youngest is pretty talented and a wise king himself.

  
  


“Yeah, I think he was,” Seonghwa later replies and Mingi laughs outright, sometimes slapping on his knee and throwing the stick right back at Jongho. “But it’s cool though. He also said you’re dumb, Mingi,” Seonghwa lies.

  
  


That’s when the bright visage fades into an indescribable frown; a threatening glare at the drummer who confidently and proudly sits straight up on his stool, acting as if he really said something as such (and Seonghwa is thankful Jongho tagged along).

  
  


“ _Yah!_ ” Mingi yells and then dashes towards the youngest and wraps his arms around Jongho’s neck. The latter can’t even free himself from it since the beginning. Everything seems to have happened all at once and Jongho has taken more time reacting than doing something. 

  
  


Seonghwa sighs, exasperated but relieved. Before him are teenagers around his age, but they appear as if they’re 9. 

  
  


Somehow, Seonghwa can take comfort in that fact.

  
  


“Seonghwa.”

  
  


Now there goes a voice he does not expect to hear.

  
  


He scans the whole room, finding where the voice came from. As it turns out, it’s from the red-haired, grumpy leader, who is sitting on the floor by the corner, a guitar and notebook on his lap and a pencil stuck behind his ear. Seonghwa scrunches his eyebrows before he takes an approach.

  
  


“Sit,” Hongjoong nods towards the spot in front of him and Seonghwa eventually finds himself complying. “Listen and tell me if it sounds okay.”

  
  


Seonghwa cannot even have time for himself to react as Hongjoong proceeds on playing the guitar right away. 

  
  


An unfamiliar song comes on. It’s light and sentimental, sad but with a hopeful undertone. Without the words, it speaks of youth - _one’s_ story of their youth. It speaks of growing up and bidding farewells to all the fun they had. It reassures and it reminisces. It makes sure their story will be remembered; _they will be remembered._

  
  


Without the words, the guitar strings can speak for themselves. It’s a goodbye that is so painful yet beautiful and Seonghwa doesn’t want it to end.

  
  


But it ends.

  
  


Hongjoong plucks on the last few strings and the last one lingers and resounds for a little longer than the rest, like it _begs_ to be remembered.

  
  


“How’s that?” he suddenly asks, looking up from the strings and to the other boy who is now fazed.

  
  


“Pretty,” Seonghwa hears himself mutter, “What song is that?”

  
  


“My mind, basically.”

  
  


Seonghwa raises his eyebrows, now more curious than ever. Could it be is Hongjoong’s story of youth? Could it be his wish - to reassure and to be remembered?

  
  


Could it be his farewell?

  
  


“What?” 

  
  


Of all the thoughts swimming in Seonghwa’s mind, that is the only word that has managed to smoothly roll off his tongue.

  
  


“It’s freestyle,” Hongjoong scoffs rather too confidently, “I did it out of nowhere, but it sounds like there’s already a story, right?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Seonghwa mumbles, slowly bobbing his head in agreement.

  
  


He is beginning to be more confused than curious. Why is Hongjoong like this to him all of a sudden again? All he remembers is that they have spent one time together and that was when they were out of the classroom and at the after-class detention. Seonghwa guesses after that, they would be retreating to the normal scenarios of Hongjoong voluntarily treating him like nothing and Seonghwa not wanting to squeeze himself in. 

  
  


However, that does not seem to be the case. As much as Seonghwa hated it, he muses the normal would be better than this - when he’s all weirded out by Hongjoong’s abrupt playing freestyle and asking him:

  
  


“What’s the story you heard?” 

  
  


With furrowed brows and fluttering eyes, Seonghwa mutters, “Farewells.”

  
  


“While I heard hello’s, like trying to get to know a person I find so odd.”

  
  


And Hongjoong smirks while Seonghwa quietly sits there, not liking whatever his own thoughts are telling him. _Trying to get to know a person I find so odd_. The sound of his voice repeats itself in his head and Seonghwa can’t figure out why- 

  
  


_Why_ is he having so much hope for a statement that is more likely to be hollow?

  
  


“It’s cool, right? One music, interpreted in different ways.”

  
  


“What are you trying to do?” Seonghwa questions almost immediately. He’s had it enough. Too much turmoil has been boiled and bubbled up until it leaks out of the brim.

  
  


There goes a silent pause. Hongjoong’s lips are clamped shut and eyes blink rapidly in a manner Seonghwa can never be able to describe.

  
  


“What else? I’m showing off.”

  
  


_Of course, he is._

  
  


“What?” Seonghwa blurts out.

  
  


“I’m now a better guitarist than you. What are you gonna do about it?” Hongjoong says and in a challenging tone, he does. 

  
  


Seonghwa can’t really comprehend what Hongjoong is trying to do. It’s rather a complex puzzle - too big of a picture with too little pieces. He can’t be bothered enough to try and fix it up. 

  
  


But for now, he only knows one thing and that is he _wants_ to grab the guitar from Hongjoong’s lap and _play it_ until Hongjoong would seal his mouth shut, until he is knocked into his senses that _no one_ can ever be a better guitarist than himself.

  
  


But for now, Seonghwa still can’t do that. Still can’t. Maybe soon.

  
  


For now, he can only scoff it off. “Sure,” he says dismissively with a smug smile playing by his lips. “Spare me some time and I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

  
  


“Nice,” Seonghwa hears Hongjoong say.

  
  


Three seconds later and the once smirk on Seonghwa’s face bursts into light laughter shared with the red-haired leader. 

  
  


And another three seconds later, Seonghwa thinks it’s time to change his answer. 

  
  


_This_ is what the music speaks of.

  
  


Later that night as Seonghwa plops down on his bed, he does not hear voices of his inner demons. Rather, he hears Hongjoong’s laughter with the faint playing of the guitar in the background.

  
  


Seonghwa smiles at the thought. He smiles _too big_ his cheeks start to ache. A pain but so beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4JAJdTyy6nBaYYiOR76emW?si=ZC0_0ip3QkOg1WgO-Yez2A) with the songs used for the chapter titles if u wanna listen ! (the song for next chapter is already up there... u already know whats to come hehe)
> 
> talk with me in the comments? :D


	6. Wildflower - 5 Seconds of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lost and the found find themselves funnily dancing with each other.
> 
> _**05 Wildflower - 5 Seconds of Summer** _
> 
> ✩ = Hongjoong  
> ☾ = Seonghwa

✩

  
  


Hongjoong wakes up to the sound of his alarm going off.

  
  


Actually, he has been awake for an hour before that already.

  
  


To say he is thrilled would be an understatement. Not that he is excited for the prom itself because  _ who  _ in their right mind would be excited for an event who “normalizes heterosexual activities?” - as he, not a professional philosopher, would say. 

  
  


He finds not a hint of entertainment in wearing tuxedos, asking girls to dance, or having to put up a front of acting like he has every wealth there is in the world, because - let’s face it - that is  _ so  _ not Hongjoong and he can’t believe he has let himself suffer through it for the past three years of his high school. But what matters is that he still remains resilient up to this day.

  
  


Because if he didn’t, he might have not been able to see the  _ perks  _ of prom, which is - of course - Strawberry Cosmos finally gets to have an event for themselves.

  
  


Years later,Hongjoong will finally be able to play up there on the school stage with his best friend, Mingi, and the rest of the band. He will finally be able to know what it feels like up there - having a guitar strap wrapped around his shoulder, lights all harshly shining on them, seeing the crowd from above, their hands raised, and hearing them singing along. All his life he had wondered what it would feel like and, later tonight, even though it still feels like a daydream to him, he will finally find out.

  
  


...or is it actually just a daydream? An imagination his mind just made up to feed his satisfaction? A dream from a 3-hour slumber?

  
  


All he needs to do to know is to  _ SLAP!  _ his own face, so he does.

  
  


And it  _ burns.  _

  
  


Without looking at the mirror, Hongjoong can easily tell there is a tinge of pink up on his cheeks from the slap of reality and the late winter breeze.

  
  


And he smiles because things are actually happening in his favor.

  
  


Hongjoong then hops off his bed and starts his day.

  
  


A beanie and a jumper on, Hongjoong walks his way to the bus stop as if he were in the middle of some musical show. He’s dancing and he can practically hear the birds singing his favorite song, animatedly flying around and landing on his fingers as if this was a Disney movie.

  
  


This day could not even get more perfect when his bus arrives a few seconds after he arrived at the stop. He gets on, drops some coins on the container as a payment, and he muses he might have given a little more than intended, but he is just too happy to mind.

  
  


And if there were a word greater than perfect, this day would be it when Hongjoong spots Mingi seated at the backmost part of the bus, earplugs tucked into his ears, eyes fixed on the outside through the window. Hongjoong ambles his way through, thankful that the space next to his best friend is free.

  
  


“Yo,” Hongjoong greets as he plops down on the seat.

  
  


Mingi flinches, immediately taking off the plugs and snapping his head to the side to look. When he realizes it’s Hongjoong, he heaves a sigh, relieved that he is not a kidnapper or such.

  
  


“You scared me,” he remarks before he offers an earplug and Hongjoong does not hesitate to take it from his hand. He plugs it in his ear as well and instantly smiles when he finds the song so utterly familiar - it’s none other than one of the songs they are set to play for later.

  
  


“I can tell,” Hongjoong chuckles. “Why are you so… antsy? Did you drink coffee in the morning again?”

  
  


“At this rate, I don’t even have to take coffee to feel this uneasy.”

  
  


“Why?” 

  
  


Mingi throws him a look and blinks questioningly. “You’re asking that as if we’re not playing in front of a huge crowd later.”

  
  


“Ah,” Hongjoong exclaims. He laughs when he pinpoints the problem. It’s not caffeine, certainly not lovesickness, neither anything that could throw one’s heartbeat into rapid fire and make them as antsy as Mingi could ever be, but it’s- “You could’ve just said you’re nervous.”

  
  


“And you’re not?”

  
  


Hongjoong smiles. “Not now. Maybe later.”

  
  


“Well, you better get used to the feeling of it  _ now  _ than later,” Mingi advises, but Hongjoong is simply too happy, too carefree that he can only shrug it off.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hongjoong should have listened to Mingi.

  
  


He muffles the string of profanities escaping his lips with his palm as he eyes every member of the band and the beads of sweat forming on their foreheads.

  
  


This is not how it’s supposed to be.

  
  


Earlier in the morning, Hongjoong imagined the band to be as cheerful as him, or even more than that if possible. There was once a fictional, light film playing on the back of his head, starring Strawberry Cosmos, walled in the music room they call home, dancing with guitar straps and belting along to the song. 

  
  


But the film reel tore  _ just  _ a wee bit when Hongjoong spotted antsy Mingi at the back of the bus. He shrugged it off. It was just a wee bit, anyway; what was there to mind, right?

  
  


Then, everything changes when the clock strikes 7:30. 

  
  


The band (and by this, it means the only five instrumentalists because the school still can’t take into account that they have  _ friends  _ as members) and so are the other performers for the prom night have been excused out of their classes and spend the day to practice - this, they did - and to relax - this, they did not.

  
  


Now Hongjoong stands in the middle of the music room, whose walls he feels are shattered and the wooden floor he thinks is torn to pieces. 

  
  


Before him stands the rest of the band, with hair sticking to their foreheads with sweat, knees puny, yet their backs rigid as ever. 

  
  


This is when the reel snaps, curls around Hongjoong’s ankle, and drags him back to reality.

  
  


“Guys!” Hongjoong hollers, waving his hands around as if he were calling for a helicopter from afar, “Take a chill pill!” he says;

  
  


Because that’s a fucking great advice.

  
  


“Thanks! I'm as calm as ever, hyung!” Jongho raises his thumbs up and tugs his lips into the most sarcastic smile. 

  
  


“Tonight is what we have been waiting for! Can we  _ not  _ let this crippling nervousness stop us from… doing our best?” Hongjoong continues. It would not be wrong to point a finger at him and call him desperate, because he obviously is; everyone including himself can tell. But he knows he’s so,  _ so  _ bad at this. Communicating, handing coping techniques, and whatnots - he generally sucks at this.

  
  


“Putting  _ crippling  _ before nervousness seriously helps. Yes.” It’s Mingi’s turn to play the Sarcasm Card and Hongjoong knows by then it’s game over for him.

  
  


He plops down on the ground and crosses his legs across each other like a child throwing a silent tantrum. “Break,” he says. With that, the band part ways to their own favorite corners and do their own favorite soothing techniques, while Hongjoong is left there in the center of the room, wishing he weren’t who he is.

  
  


He’s the band leader, for God’s sake! He should be able to handle this.

  
  


And he is their friend, most of all. He should know which words to pick and which ones to say.

  
  


Hongjoong tilts his head back. A long, heavy sigh is drawled out of his lips as he muses how fucking incredibly  _ useless  _ he is. 

  
  


His thoughts are zipped shut when someone barges into the room, the door loudly banging against the adjacent wall. Hongjoong throws the person a glare, but as his mind processes the image before him, his eyes widen as if they have caught hope, A.K.A...

  
  


Park Seonghwa.

  
  


“Who died?” is the first thing the newcomer asks before he walks over to Hongjoong and hands him a sheet of paper, which shows tonight’s program, specifically the order of performances. 

  
  


“Me. Soon,” Hongjoong replies and sighs, “So, we’re performing before the disgusting slow dance?”

  
  


“Mhm,” Seonghwa hums, bobbing his head. “Which, I think, is perfect, knowing you’ll be performing a  _ love song, _ ” he teases, then chuckles a bit before Hongjoong shoots him another threat in disguise of a glare.

  
  


“Say it’s perfect once they learn how to calm their asses down.” Hongjoong nods towards his bandmates. Seonghwa then proceeds on scanning the room. Yunho has earphones plugged on and is dancing around, which, Hongjoong must say, is a bad coping mechanism as he’s simply running away. Mingi also has his earplugs on, but he remains seated still. If only he were not breathing, he would be a statue of that corner. Jongho has his eyes shut and has been drumming the air, throwing sticks after sticks; perhaps imagining tonight’s scenario.

  
  


By these, Hongjoong is convinced Jongho is the only one with a living brain cell.

  
  


“That’s pretty normal,” Seonghwa comments, nodding reassuringly. 

  
  


“It doesn’t seem normal to me.”

  
  


“Because it’s only new to you, of course,” Seonghwa scoffs, “I had been like this, too. Horizon had done almost everything they could just to calm my nerves.”

  
  


“What did they do?”

  
  


It’s nearly not obvious to the naked eye, but Hongjoong muses he has seen Seonghwa’s eyes go dim, refusing to reflect the light from the ceiling.

  
  


Seonghwa keeps it simple then - shrug it off and make it vague; he says, “They offered me a deal. I’ll do my best in exchange for a reward.”

  
  


Then Hongjoong laughs in disbelief. “ _ Reward?  _ What are you, 5?”

  
  


“It’s better than ‘Take a chill pill’ or something, right?”

  
  


“You didn’t have to attack me like that.”

  
  


Seonghwa suppresses his laugh with a lip-bite, then says, “Use up all the options available. You’re a leader, for fuck’s sake.”

  
  


Hongjoong feels a surge of  _ something very familiar  _ within him - competency. He is in  _ it  _ again. Unsaid or not, be it as it may, there is another competition between him and Seonghwa and it’s none other than Which is More Competent As A Leader. Hongjoong already knows the game is on with those words.

  
  


“You seem such a great leader; why don’t you show me then?” Hongjoong challenges as he now rises from the floor and stands as confidently as ever, as if he knew he’s going to win this, too.

  
  


Seonghwa smiles, or more so smirks, accepting the challenge. He clears his throat and then hollers for the band, “Hey.” All of them are surprisingly quick to pay attention, yanking their earphones off and dropping drumsticks. 

  
  


“If I liked your performance later, I’ll join the band.”

  
  


Silence. Hongjoong gapes in shock. “That’s unfair-”

  
  


“LET’S WORK HARD!” Mingi screams  _ so  _ loud that his energy spreads across the room. Like three excited children, they hurry back to the center, bouncing on the heels of their feet. Hongjoong swears he has never seen them this excited since this morning.

  
  


“I can’t fucking believe you’re listening to a mere stranger over own best friend,” Hongjoong scoffs. Even though he does feel a  _ bit  _ betrayed, he can’t help but find this rather amusing. Does Seonghwa really matter that much to them?

  
  


And when he looks over to Seonghwa, he’s never seen him smile this hard for all the years he’s known him.

  
  


(And do they matter much to him?)

  
  


“Seeeee?” Seonghwa teases, smiles wide and eyes happy.

  
  


Meanwhile, Hongjoong only sighs, relieved. “You better make sure you’re not lying to them.”

  
  


Because maybe,

  
  


Just maybe,

  
  


Strawberry Cosmos needs a Park Seonghwa, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


☾

  
  


Seonghwa has felt this way before.

  
  


The loud music booming against his own heartbeat, the blinding lights, and the drowning presence of the surrounding crowd; tonight is almost the same as the old ones - same feeling, same scenario - except tonight, he is not the one to perform on stage.

  
  


So why the hell is he nervous, anyway?

  
  


He sits alone at a shared table. His knees have been endlessly bouncing at a hideous rhythm and eyes have been scanning the school gymnasium every once in a while. 

  
  


At this point, Seonghwa feels like a dad of Strawberry Cosmos, overly worried about their whereabouts. The last time he checked their group chat they were at Yunho’s house, putting on their outfits and a little make-up, practicing a little for the last time, and a bonus of Hongjoong’s motivational ment. That was over 30 minutes ago. They only have a few minutes till their show starts, yet they are still not here even though late attendees are said not to be tolerated.

  
  


Do they want a grand entrance that much?

  
  


Seonghwa has had enough of it. He pulls out his phone from the pocket of his black slacks and types a message to Hongjoong.

  
  


_ to:  _ **_Hongjoong_ **

_ why are u still not here _

  
  


He is too uneasy to even take his eyes off his phone, waiting for the  _ ‘Delivered’  _ to turn into  _ ‘Seen’  _ and for the three little dots to pop up, indicating the receiver is typing. Thank God, it does not take that long for Hongjoong to respond.

  
  


_ from:  _ **_Hongjoong_ **

_ uh... we’ve been at the backstage all along ? _

  
  


Seonghwa widens his eyes in shock and disbelief. Frustrated, he types:

  
  


_ And you didn’t even tell me?| _

  
  


A short pause. A realization.

  
  


Then he deletes the entire message.

  
  


He has no right to know where they are or what they do, anyway. Despite the times he has spent with the band and despite how friendly most of them are to him, he’s not a member of Strawberry Cosmos (yet?). He has to remind himself that a  _ lot  _ of times.

  
  


But Seonghwa wants to earn that right.

  
  


_ to:  _ **_Hongjoong_ **

_ ok can i come? _

  
  


_ from:  _ **_Hongjoong_ **

_ sure ? _

  
  


He only has a few minutes left before he sees them on the stage, so he does not waste any more time and hurries his way to the backstage. 

  
  


A lot of performers are there as expected. They fill in the narrow space, top it off with their instruments and whatever props necessary that just irk the hell out of Seonghwa now that he is chasing passing time and is on an adrenaline rush. Even so, he makes sure he does not trip over anything.

  
  


To make things worse, the band has to be at the very last corner, right next to the entrance to the stage itself as if they were the finish line and all the other things along the way were obstacles Seonghwa had to overcome.

  
  


In the end, Seonghwa makes it, wins the race, and finishes it with hands dropped to his knees like he has just gone through the most difficult challenge he has faced.

  
  


“Seonghwa hyung!” 

  
  


Mingi is the first to greet him (which is not surprising, really). The younger claps his hands against Seonghwa’s face and then squishes his cheeks together, lips jutted out into a pout. 

  
  


“I’m so glad you are here!”

  
  


“I can tell,” Seonghwa replies as he takes his hands off the other.

  
  


It is only then Seonghwa gets to see Mingi’s (jaw-dropping) outfit. A sleeveless white blouse, revealing the bare biceps of the bassist, accessorised with a black tie around its collar. If it weren't for the guitar’s strap wrapped around his body, Seonghwa would think Mingi is a fashionista, here for a runway.

  
  


Seonghwa takes it as a chance to check others’ outfits as well and he can pretty much tell they all decided on the black and white, formal yet casual fits. Even their friends ride along with their fancy suits and customized ties.

  
  


But of course, there’s always the surprise, the cherry on top. There  _ has  _ to be someone to completely make him lose his jaw.

  
  


And of course,

  
  


It has to be Kim Hongjoong.

  
  


Black and white theme, sure, that’s a given. Black slacks - another given. A white polo - yeah, that’s expected.

  
  


But-  _ CROPPED? A CROPPED POLO, SHORT ENOUGH TO REVEAL HIS BARE STOMACH? AND THE SHINY PIERCING ON HIS NAVEL THAT SEONGHWA NEVER KNEW HE HAD? _

  
  


_ FUCK. _

  
  


Seonghwa can  _ practically  _ feel his knees go weak and he thinks they could give in any minute now. This is just beyond his expectations. Just when he thinks Hongjoong is done surprising him, ta-da! A cropped polo! And a sparkly bonus! Next thing Seonghwa knows is his brain short-circuiting and him unable to respond when Hongjoong tells him,

  
  


“Stop staring.”

  
  


Thank God, Seonghwa manages to do the  _ slightest  _ and that is to flicker his eyes away from his navel and then back to Hongjoong’s eyes. Yet his mouth is still open agape, trembling for words to say.  _ For fuck’s sake, Seonghwa, say something! _

  
  


“I-I’m not.”

  
  


_ Say something  _ but  _ an obvious lie! _

  
  


Luckily (is it?), Hongjoong only smirks it off and proceeds on giving his motivational speech to the band. Seonghwa assumes right then that Hongjoong is probably pretty used to getting such looks. 

  
  


And Seonghwa doesn’t know why that thought makes him feel so… ill at ease.

  
  


He only snaps out of it when he hears the host speak outside, to announce that Strawberry Cosmos is coming up next. The band then starts bouncing on their feet, Jongho even doing sudden push-ups, San applauding and cheering, and Yeosang giving Yunho shoulder massages as if the latter was about to enter a boxing competition. Seonghwa is so familiar with this scene in front of his eyes already; he knows it’s to boost the adrenaline and that’s the secret behind grand performances. 

  
  


Then the lights shut off and the crowd cheers louder. Jongho is the first to come out on stage, followed by the bassist and the vocalist. The friends rush out of the back and join the crowd, leaving Seonghwa there with the words he wants to say.

  
  


“Joong!” he shouts suddenly. 

  
  


The guitarist stops in his steps and turns his head over his shoulder.

  
  


“Captivate my heart and I’ll join the band.”

  
  


A short and silent pause. Under the dim lights of the backstage, Hongjoong’s teeth gleam brighter out of his smile - a  _ challenged  _ smile - and that’s something so expected of him. 

  
  


Then he turns on his back, walks ahead, while he leaves Seonghwa the words: “I will. Just watch me from the crowd.”

  
  


By now, Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong will,  _ for sure.  _

  
  


He always does.

  
  


Still, that doesn’t cancel out the excitement rushing through his veins as he runs back outside and to the crowd, joining the band’s friends near the front row. 

  
  


The hurried pace of his heart is frightening, but knowing whom it beats for makes him feel safe and sound.

  
  


So he stands there amidst the familiar faces and allows himself to be blinded by the fluctuating lights. He lets himself smile when he hears the bass play a prominent intro, and when the lights stop and focuses on the center, when Seonghwa hears a recognized voice out of the speakers and  _ casually  _ say,

  
  


“Hi. We’re Strawberry Cosmos.”

  
  


Seonghwa allows his heart to race faster.

  
  


“And this is Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer.”

  
  


The band of four starts and harmoniously sings in chorus, along with the audience who’s familiar with the song. Just by hearing that, they seem to shine brighter, smiles that never fade gracing their lips. 

  
  


Seonghwa knows from that moment on that the stage is where they belong, like if this whole place were the vastness of the universe and everybody else were a star, God would place Strawberry Cosmos right on the center, outshining the rest yet inspiring others like Seonghwa to glow brighter, reminding the crowd that they are made of specks of stardust. 

  
  


The stage should be their home, not practice rooms nor a friend’s garage, and Seonghwa muses the band is already aware of that as they are now letting people know that  _ this  _ is their territory, they’re claiming it, owning it, and now they’re singing their victory song.

  
  


_ You know you are my favorite fantasy _

_ A fatal love song, waterfall is overflowin’ _

_ You’re the only one who makes me _

_ Everytime we _

_ Tell you what I like _

_ My wildflower _

  
  


Hongjoong is amazing, Seonghwa must admit (or has he said that already?). He moves so naturally, so comfortably around the stage, nearly the same way as rivers through rainforests or the moon around the earth.

  
  


He twists around, jumps to the beat, smiles and breaks hearts; he  _ knows  _ he’s getting tons of pairs of eyes on him; he  _ knows  _ he is gleaming against the darkness that blankets the place, and he  _ knows  _ he’s… pretty. 

  
  


_ Fuck.  _ He’s goddamn pretty. With red hair sticking to his forehead and him showing off with his pink guitar, Seonghwa is stunned. He can feel his hands raised above his head and his body dancing to the music, but internally, he is frozen like water in winter. 

  
  


Right before him is an angel, or at least used to be one. He once strived harder than necessary that next thing he knew, he had fallen down on the ground. Now he moves before Seonghwa’s eyes as if he were a snake, tempting him to bite on the forbidden fruit.

  
  


Too bad, Seonghwa has been most prepared for this day than anybody else.

  
  


So he takes it. He plucks it off the tree and lets himself be. He casts aside all the times he has distanced himself from everything he fears and allows it to crack him open, free him, engulf him, until he completely loses himself. 

  
  


Seonghwa recognizes whom his heart beats for; he always does, except this time, he’s afraid no longer.

  
  


The band of four sings in chorus for their last song before the lights switch off and the place is covered in darkness, only for the lights to come on again, but this time, they appear warm and they come slow as a mellow, romantic song flows out of the speakers.

  
  


The crowd parts into pairs and sometimes into a circle of single-and-not-ready-to-mingle friends. They have already moved on from the previous performance as it appears, but Seonghwa is still  _ captivated.  _ He is lost in a trance, eyes still stuck looking into the far distance and heart still in rapid fire.

  
  


Seonghwa has felt this way before. When was it? He tries to reminisce and travels to the past.

  
  


Then he’s back with a picture. Right, he remembers it now.

  
  


He felt this way when he was once too high in love he entirely lost himself in an unfamiliar void.

  
  


It’s frightening. The memory gives him goosebumps and sends shivers down to his spine. Why is it that the supposed happiest scene of his life turns out to be the scariest in the end?

  
  


He’s only yanked back into reality when he hears  _ him  _ call.

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


That’s right.

  
  


Seonghwa is fine now.

  
  


“So…?” Hongjoong starts, hoping the next words in line after that would turn out positively.

  
  


“So… what?” asks Seonghwa, even though he already knows what Hongjoong means.

  
  


“How is it? Our performance?”

  
  


_ Their performance.  _ A picture pops up in his mind, the exact scene from awhile ago, and that’s enough for his lips to crack into a smile.

  
  


“Oh, you know what? Your  _ proud  _ smile can tell me already that we were pretty amazing.”

  
  


“Smile?” Seonghwa scoffs, preparing himself to utter a lie no matter how much he wants scream to him, right at his face, that they are fucking amazing. But before that, he wants to play a game. “What if I smiled only ‘cause I’m keeping myself from laughing at how hilarious you looked?”

  
  


“Hmm,” Hongjoong hums, tilting his head as he thinks. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his slacks and then, for some reason, his feet start swaying side to side, and Seonghwa finds himself dancing along, too. “I don’t think you found us hilarious when you had amazement painted all over your face earlier.”

  
  


Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “Watching a face in the crowd while you’re performing? That’s kinda unprofessional.”

  
  


Hongjoong takes a step closer. “Maybe it is; maybe it’s not, but if I did it, it’s not.”

  
  


Tuts his tongue, “Your huge ego vexes me greatly.”

  
  


“Yeah, sure. But admit it: it’s what makes me amazing.”

  
  


Hongjoong has the biggest smug smile on his face and hands raised to his sides to show himself off. Seonghwa only purses his lips into a thin line, trying his hardest not to smile, not to give in; otherwise, he would lose the game. 

  
  


But silently, Seonghwa admits it. It is Hongjoong’s grand ego that makes him amazing, or it is at least _ one  _ of the things.

  
  


“No, it’s one of the huge factors why you’re such a loser.”

  
  


_ Nice comeback.  _ Seonghwa is ready to choke himself.

  
  


“But your crooked smile tells me otherwise,” Hongjoong teases and grins, while Seonghwa quietly wishes for him to  _ stop.  _ He’s at least a ruler close standing in front of him, swaying side by side with him, which is a very funny way of dancing with someone, by the way, but Seonghwa doesn’t mind as he dances with him in the end. 

  
  


“Stop reading my face.”

  
  


“Can’t help it if you’re an open book.”

  
  


But what Seonghwa can’t keep his mind off is  _ this,  _ the wholeness of this moment right here. The teasing, the stifled chuckles, the (odd) dancing - just  _ what  _ the fuck are they doing?

  
  


Or what the fuck is Seonghwa’s heart doing?

  
  


He knows. Seonghwa is fully aware that if Hongjoong teased him one more, he would exaggeratedly lose his sanity, or in other words, he would kiss him… maybe… or not… unless...?

  
  


But Seonghwa doesn’t want that… (yet.)

  
  


To prevent things from going to the wrong direction, Seonghwa decides on sacrificing his victory. He would rather lose this uncalled game and call it a day than witness what they already have between them collapse.

  
  


Seonghwa smiles, eyes gleaming and all, and then he asks, “Then guess what I’m saying next.”

  
  


Challenged yet again, Hongjoong raises his eyebrows. “Now you’re making it hard for me. Just say it.”

  
  


Seonghwa chuckles and when he stands still does their dancing come on pause, too. Hongjoong looks at him with expectant eyes, teeth chewing on his lips, probably nervous of what is to come.

  
  


But he’s not alone, because Seonghwa is nervous, too. This must be the first few times he decides for his own and yet he feels the stars are on his side as well. It is that feeling that convinces him that he’s heading on the right way. It has to be; otherwise, he has nowhere else to go. 

  
  


So he goes on.

  
  


“I’ll join the band.”

  
  


And this means two things:

  
  


1\. Yes. Seonghwa is indeed joining the band; and

  
  
  


2\. Yes. Hongjoong has captivated his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOO! first of all, ohmygod, i STRONGLY apologize for the LONG LONG DELAY. the past few months have been such a tough ride, but i'm slowly regaining myself now ! for now, there's no assurance when we can upload the following chapters as we've been really busy, but what's for sure is that we will update! just tune in to the [band's official twitter account](https://twitter.com/strwbrrycosmos) for the announcements!
> 
> i hope you love this chapter anyway as much as i loved writing it ;-; let me know in the comments !


	7. Streetlight Kids - Friends at the Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the night of first-times and falling harder.
> 
> **_06 Streetlight Kids - Friends at the Falls_ **
> 
> ✩ = Hongjoong  
> ☾ = Seonghwa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *content warning: underage smoking

☾

  
  


As people say, new moons represent new beginnings, a beaming reminder to refill one’s energy tank and set another foot into achieving their goals and even their dreams.

  
  


That must be why; under the glowing sphere amidst the dark canvas of the sky, the eight friends heartily and happily cheer as they hear the news from their leader - that Park Seonghwa has officially joined the band. 

  
  


And that must be why; it has become a sudden accord that, in order to celebrate Seonghwa’s debut, all of them accede to make this their night of first-times. In other words, they have to do something they have never done before as if they had to mentally tick something off their bucket lists (which had never existed until tonight, by the way), and for Seonghwa’s case, it is to join Strawberry Cosmos, so he does not have a problem anymore.

  
  


It’s quarter to nine in the evening when the band of friends hop on in Yunho’s mom’s car. They are set on a 45-minute drive out of their district, checking Yunho’s “ _ drive mom’s car out of town _ ” and Jongho’s “ _ not be at home past 9PM. _ ” It is kind of like hitting two birds with one stone.

  
  


“Hyung, I swear to god, you better drive safely and  _ responsibly _ . I didn’t tell my parents I will come home late, so if I didn’t come home and they just found out that I’m already-” Yunho speeds past a road hump “- _ hyung!  _ I swear to god!” Jongho yells, hitting the older’s shoulder with his drumstick.

  
  


“Relax! I’ve been driving since I was 15 and I’ve never had an accident,” Yunho chuckles, “except those six times.”

  
  


_ “Hyung! _ ”

  
  


“It’s normal!” Yunho is quick to counter, followed by bursting laughter from the rest of the band, while Jongho stays seated on the shotgun with an annoyed expression on his face.

  
  


Seonghwa has noticed Jongho has been out of it ever since they had decided on tonight’s adventure. He did agree on it, yes, but Seonghwa reckons Jongho must be hearing debating voices in his head - one is of himself and the other would be of his mom and dad. Seonghwa then concludes it must be really tough having strict parents.

  
  


“Where are we even heading to?” Yunho asks, tilting his head a little to the side, all the while never tearing his eyes off the road ahead of him, as he should.

  
  


“We don’t even have a plan?” Jongho screeches irritably, eyes wide and jaws hanging open in disbelief.

  
  


Fortunately, Hongjoong, seated behind the youngest, only laughs at him and playfully kicks the back of Jongho’s seat. He can probably place himself in the shoes Jongho is in.

  
  


“You know that this agreement just popped out of nowhere, right? But don’t worry; we’ll be fine! I’m sure the others have something in mind,” the leader reassures, even leaning forward to pat the other’s head.

  
  


“Actually,” Mingi, from the backmost part of the van, begins, raising his right hand as if he were in class, “I was thinking of going to the supermarket. I’m gonna do grocery shopping.”

  
  


Wooyoung shrieks and cackles outright, one that bursts through his pressed lips and makes his squinted eyes quite teary. “Grocery shopping? We’re driving out of town just for you to shop?” he asks in between laughing, slapping his seatmate by the arm. 

  
  


“I mean, that’s new, right?” Hongjoong remarks as he tilts his head back.

  
  


“Yeah, it’s new! I also want to ride the cart for the first time today!” San agrees excitedly, flailing his arms above his head, and as it seems, San is pretty much looking forward to this; Seonghwa would rather not get in the way and comment on the childhood he’s probably had. 

  
  


“It’s decided then,” Hongjoong hums, satisfied.

  
  


On the other hand, Wooyoung huffs, admitting his first loss for the night for considering that simply heading to the supermarket from out of town is rather the worst yet most hilarious idea ever. However, may it be decided or may the route change into somewhere else, one way or another, the fact doesn’t waver; it still is the most ludicrous, impractical plan ever.

  
  


But what can anyone say? This is Strawberry Cosmos. The night is young, and so are they.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A little later than 45 minutes of - or what appears to be - endless journeying and Jongho’s incessant reprimands towards the driver when Yunho pulls the car by the parking area at the underground of the supermarket. It is a relief, especially to the youngest, that nobody wants to waste more time, so just as when they hop off do they scurry their ways to the mall’s entrance.

  
  


Left behind, Seonghwa takes notice of their outfits and how  _ formal  _ it looked, rather - too formal for  _ just  _ grocery shopping. The plan happens to be so abrupt that they didn’t even have the time to at least phone their guardians or change into something… something  _ more grocery-shopping-y.  _

  
  


The hesitation must be so apparently painted all across Seonghwa’s face, or is it just that Hongjoong is such a great mind-reader? Because when the leader eyes him, he titters.

  
  


“It’s alright. We’re out of town; no one knows us here,” Hongjoong reassures. Top that off with a small smile. 

  
  


Though still unconvinced to think other than that they look like fools, Seonghwa only nods his head once.

  
  


Just as they enter the shop’s automatic doors, Mingi is quick to pull out a cart from its line and San, too, is fast to step on and sit cross-legged in it, the prominent dimples popping out of his cheeks as he pulls off the happiest grin. 

  
  


Seonghwa throws a hand over his face. It’s not even 5 minutes and yet he already wants to abscond, or at least pretend he is not friends with these dorks.

  
  


But deep,  _ deep  _ down inside of him, his heart is so full, so happy to know that these dorks, whom he can also finally and officially call his friends  _ and  _ his bandmates, are doing all of these just for the sake of celebrating his debut into the band.

  
  


They skid through the aisle for junk food when Wooyoung catches up to Mingi’s cart (which is also San’s ride) all the while carrying two bottles of nail polish. He carefully places them in San’s hands.

  
  


“Eh? You’re gonna paint your nails for tonight?” Seonghwa hears San say and the latter sounds so surprised by this.

  
  


Wooyoung nods confidently as he sips from the packet of fruit juice, which Seonghwa can’t even question where, when, and how he got that. He silently prays he’d paid for it already, or would pay for it later.

  
  


“How is Mr. Jung gonna react when he sees it?” Yeosang takes his turn to throw a question, and Seonghwa senses something feels…  _ off,  _ ever since Wooyoung was interrogated about his choice.

  
  


From behind, Seonghwa can see Wooyoung shrugging carelessly, his hand deep into the pocket of his slacks while the other holds onto his juice. “What’s a night of first-times if it were not to step out of your comfort zone?”

  
  


_ Comfort zone?  _ Seonghwa can’t keep himself from wondering what’s wrong.

  
  


“That’s true, surprisingly,” Hongjoong, who is walking by Seonghwa’s side, agrees, “Also, Wooyoung, let me borrow the red polish later. I’ll paint mine, too,” then he hums, thinking, “I’d like some white as well, though.”

  
  


“Sorry,” Wooyoung wavers his hand, “I grabbed purple for the other.”

  
  


“Dumbass. How are you gonna do the base without the white?” Hongjoong scoffs. “Seonghwa, come with me.”

  
  


Startled, Seonghwa does not even have the time for himself to process the sudden invitation, because as Hongjoong pivots on the balls of his feet, Seonghwa finds himself quickly abiding and following him from behind. 

  
  


It takes aisles and aisles of various sorts for the both of them to finally reach the corner of the supermarket, in which that one shelf, exclusive for nail care, stands. Hongjoong scans through the tiny bottles filled with a variety of colors, while Seonghwa stays on his feet by the other’s side, almost as if he were rigid.

  
  


“Curious, are you?” Hongjoong starts, and Seonghwa immediately raises his eyebrows in puzzlement. Then the red-haired turns a head over his shoulder, and with squinted eyes, he says, “I don’t know how, but you’re like an open book to me. It’s like I always know what’s going through that brain of yours,” he finishes with a soft chuckle.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“About Wooyoung. You’re curious.”

  
  


_ Huh.  _ Perhaps, he  _ is  _ an open book or at least just to Hongjoong. Well, that is shocking, because this feels like the very first time someone has read him perfectly, probably understood him as well.

  
  


_ (And it kind of feels nice.) _

  
  


“I guess I am?” Seonghwa half-heartedly confesses. He is inquisitive, sure, but he doesn’t believe that that is a good enough reason for him to stick his nose into Wooyoung’s life and know everything his home holds. He would rather keep the questions to himself, moreover cast them away;

  
  


Because he knows damn well this band would do the same for him. Rather, this band  _ has been  _ doing the same for him despite how mysterious his past remains to be.

  
  


Just as when Hongjoong picks up a bottle of white polish, he stands back upright and sighs. “Let’s just say that he’s a migratory bird, locked up in a cage with bars made of his father and society’s norms.” Now that is a puzzle Seonghwa’s stupid brain can never be able to resolve. “Don’t worry about me telling you, though. He doesn’t really keep it as something sort of like a secret. I just thought I should let you know so you wouldn’t feel so… left behind or something.”

  
  


And there went Seonghwa, thinking ‘blushing’ was something only made up in fictions to accentuate unlabeled feelings… until today.

  
  


_ (Is it even the appropriate time to go red?) _

  
  


“Oh, thanks,” is all Seonghwa could say, though he has no idea on what he is so grateful for.

  
  


He muses it must be because Hongjoong is always on the lookout, not just for him, but for every single body composing the team. He doesn’t allow a few abstrusities to keep him from flipping their pages and reading through. He has this desire for certainty and assurance that he  _ understands  _ them and they can have a friend in him. 

  
  


Although being bare before someone’s eyes can be a discomfort for some, it comes different for Seonghwa, because all his life, he has always longed to be fathomed, and yet still accepted and embraced in the end.

  
  


He has always thought that would be impossible until senior year.

  
  


Hongjoong has linked only a few stars in Seonghwa’s universe, and there are millions more to be discovered. But there is this voice inside Seonghwa’s head already, hollering and yelling in joy, because, at last, he is beginning to shine brighter - a dead star that has magically come alive.

  
  


(However, there is still a part in him who cannot help but wonder if things would remain the same once the rest of his stars, which, currently, still blanketed by the dark, are explored at last.

  
  


But that should be at the least of his worries for now.)

  
  


Hongjoong shatters the short moment of silence by lifting the white polish to Seonghwa’s eyes and quivering it a little for emphasis. He says, “I’m painting my nails strawberry later.”

  
  


Seonghwa titters before he comments, “That’s cute.”

  
  


“Right?” Hongjoong looks so satisfied hearing that from Seonghwa. The sheepishly bright smile plastered across his face can testify for that. “If you were to do something for the first time tonight, though, what would it be?”

  
  


Raising his eyebrows questioningly and with a tad hint of fear, Seonghwa asks, “But I don’t have to, right?” because, if he were to be honest, he would not like to. Sure, he has already spent that much time with the band of friends, but he is not entirely certain whether he is at that level yet - where he could freely and confidently dance along with them with no worries clouding his head.

  
  


Currently, he is still quite conscious.

  
  


Hongjoong scoffs as he already takes his first step on his way back to their other friends. Seonghwa makes sure he stays in sync and walks along with him. “You seem so scared. It’s hypothetical.”

  
  


Seonghwa sighs silently, relieved. If tonight were to turn out as the time he had to look like a fool in front of them, he would like to have more time to be prepared. “I… I haven’t thought of anything yet.”

  
  


“Psh,” Hongjoong dismisses, “But you were afraid.”

  
  


“But I haven’t thought of anything yet.”

  
  


“But  _ you were  _ afraid of something you thought you would end up doing until I told you it was just a hypothetical question and you sighed in  _ relief, _ ” Hongjoong argues all under one breath.

  
  


With that, Seonghwa is sure he is caught red-handed but in a different way. He sighs yet again except this time, it is to indicate that he gives in. “I guess… I’d play the guitar again for the first time in a long, long while.”

  
  


A puzzled frown falls upon Hongjoong’s face. “But we only have electric guitars tonight.”

  
  


“You said it was hypothetical.”

  
  


The smaller shrugs, his lower lip jutting out. “Sure, but if the opportunity came, we could do it, you know? Also…” he trails off, and in every second the hand of a clock passes by, his round eyes grow wider in shock or - more likely - in disbelief, “you  _ haven’t  _ played the guitar in a _ long time? _ ”

  
  


Seonghwa purses his lips and nods, guilty. 

  
  


“Then this means, we would have to, like, wait till you get used to it again?”

  
  


“It shouldn’t take that much time, right? The battle is in-” Seonghwa counts with his fingers “-two months.”

  
  


“ _ Two months? _ ” Hongjoong shrieks  _ so  _ loud that Seonghwa wonders if he is heard all across the entirety of the mall, and that he has nearly thrown his hand over the red-haired’s mouth, but it is a good thing he retracted. “We only have  _ two months? _ ” Hongjoong simply whispers this time, even though his eyes are still so wide; if it could make a sound, it would certainly roar louder than his yelp from a while ago.

  
  


“Yeah!” Seonghwa shout-whispers in response. “But I can make it in time!”

  
  


“How are you so sure?” Hongjoong interrogates or  _ challenges  _ him, rather, like he always does. His squinted eyes would be the cherry on top.

  
  


“I’m Park Seonghwa. I’m pretty sure I had stunned you before.”

  
  


And said Park Seonghwa  _ smirks.  _ It’s quite a tricky thing - how every time Hongjoong spews words out of his mouth and laces them with a challenging tone, Seonghwa gets this spontaneous rush of confidence coursing through him. He muses it is true what some say: archnemeses bring the best out of each other.

  
  


Hongjoong pulls off a satisfied smile - something that Seonghwa has expected the least, but then there goes something more to beat that, something even lesser than the least, and  _ that  _ something appears through these words: “Actually, you did. A lot of times.”

  
  


To say that Seonghwa is weirded out is a bit of an understatement.

  
  


“You’re supposed to abase me; what the hell are you doing?”

  
  


Hongjoong narrows his eyes, slightly fazed and more likely only exaggerating. He jokes, “Don’t involve me in your weird degradation kink.”

  
  


_ What. _

  
  


_ The. _

  
  


_ Fuck.  _

  
  


The red-haired walks off after that, and Seonghwa is just as relieved that he did; otherwise, Hongjoong would have seen how he  _ nearly  _ choked on his own spit after mentally reviewing aforementioned events, and he would have seen how fucking red he is from the shame, from the embarrassment- you name it. 

  
  


Now Seonghwa would chase after Hongjoong, clarify himself, and fix the awkward tension left up in the air (or maybe it’s just the anxiety speaking?), but he would rather move past what happened than continue to humiliate himself more. Besides, Hongjoong was only joking, right? Seonghwa is sure he had seen a small smile gracing his lips before he left. It had to be just a joke. He  _ had  _ to be kidding.

  
  


With a deep breath, Seonghwa shakes his head as if that would magically erase past scenes, but, unfortunately, it wouldn’t. So all he could do is to catch up with Hongjoong’s pace and to never bring that shit up again.

  
  


“How about you?” Seonghwa asks as he peers up behind Hongjoong’s shoulder, the latter tilting his head a little to the side. “You haven’t mentioned anything about your plan for tonight.”

  
  


“Eh,” Hongjoong shrugs, “I have been pondering - or, actually, have been selecting among a long list of choices. But now that I think about it, I guess I could teach  _ someone  _ to play the guitar  _ again? _ ” 

  
  


He knows just by hearing how Hongjoong has emphasized on ‘someone’, he meant Seonghwa himself, and he confirms it when he eyes him and notices the successful smile gracing his thin lips, which is a pretty odd thing to see if one were to ask him. Never in this life did he expect Hongjoong to be feeling grand over offering someone guitar lessons. If anything, Seonghwa thinks he would be the type to scoff and brag and say something along the words: “You are so stupid.”

  
  


But who is Seonghwa to assume about Hongjoong, anyway? Among their group, he is actually the last one to know about anything at all.

  
  


So perhaps, it is safe to say that behind that proud heart Hongjoong would always have, warmth blooms.

  
  


Seonghwa smiles as he asks, “Really?”

  
  


“Sure!” Hongjoong sings, and then all of a sudden laughs wickedly. “It makes me feel  _ so  _ powerful when I teach someone, especially if it would be you. It’s like, I know everything and you don’t.”

  
  


...or maybe, Seonghwa is right all along.

  
  


He rolls his eyes. His expectations are shattered, disappointed but not too much for him to be so surprised. “Fine. If that makes you feel so pleased about yourself.”

  
  


“Ah, it’s a grand pleasure, I must say,” Hongjoong remarks, the tone of his voice making him look as if he were the most affluent man in the world. “Plus I get to see you play the guitar again.”

  
  


Seonghwa simply smiles it off, but deep down, he feels nervous - a  _ lot  _ nervous that he can practically feel himself shudder as his heart skips before it begins to thump louder by the second. He can already picture how this night ends; one way or another, the finishing line is marked by his flushed face and the rising levels of humiliation, because what is more embarrassing than taking pride in something from three years ago only for it to never exist anymore three years later? He had raised the bar too high that he himself nor the uncalloused tips of his fingers can reach it any longer.

  
  


Yet he had the audacity to say he had to “see for himself” if the band was “good enough” for him.

  
  


Yet he had the guts to tell Hongjoong, surely the school’s best and probably the world’s next guitarist, that he would join his band.

  
  


He cannot help but think maybe he should not have told Hongjoong-

  
  


Or maybe he should have backed out and kept his mouth shut from the beginning of it all.

  
  


Seonghwa stands there behind the group while they queue for the cashier, and he ponders.

  
  


_ Maybe this isn’t my place at all. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Seonghwa can pretty much tell Jongho is infuriated.

  
  


Then momentarily, most of them are, too.

  
  


The youngest’s phone has been buzzing every minute, and he always and  _ always _ had to ignore it until Mingi yelled at him to- “Just shut it down, for fuck’s sake!” 

  
  


Mingle that with more minutes spent on driving around the unfamiliar town, looking for a nice place to settle for the night. It would have been a really fun ride, to be honest, if it were not for the incessant debate on where they should head to instead - should they have a platonically romantic night picnic on a vast prairie under the smithereens of stars? Or should they play the bad guys and break into a closed building and overlook the city from the rooftop? - Yunho was just beyond torn that their car had almost collided against the motorcycle up front. 

  
  


Thank God, no one is harmed.

  
  


The leader is not even being as accommodating as he should be; he sits there on the shotgun, laughing hysterically at his band who is in total chaos, finding entertainment in the middle of a catastrophe. Seonghwa is convinced by then that he is, for sure, a masochist, but he would rather keep this information to himself.

  
  


For the record, Hongjoong has only been helpful during this distressing time  _ once,  _ and that was when he decided to exchange seats with Jongho to prevent…  _ large  _ possibilities of Yunho getting beaten up. Seonghwa can’t blame Jongho, though; the kid is just at unease. He is with a bunch of chaotic idiots who can’t come upon the same agreement for once, and he can’t even phone either of his parents to tell him he’s perfectly fine.

  
  


Seonghwa can’t blame Yunho, either. If there were anyone who should be frantic and feel angered right now, it had to be him. He’s sailing the ship in the middle of a storm yet his crew is still arguing whether to follow the stars, read the map, or trust the compass.

  
  


“Ohmygod.  _ Shut the fuck up! _ ”

  
  


And there comes the F-word out of Yunho’s mouth. It is too huge of a bombshell that everybody in the car  _ does  _ shut the fuck up.

  
  


“I am the driver, so I’m the one who decides where we go tonight,” Yunho reprimands. Through the rearview mirror, Seonghwa can see the scowl on Yunho’s face. By then, he knows nobody should strike any more of his nerves - until he adds in a low mutter, “I’m sorry.”

  
  


Yet he is still soft at heart.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Where they go ends up as a silent street, lined with transients deep in slumber and trees where crickets chirp. Yunho pulls the car by the side, and just as when he shuts the engine off, silence surrounds and they hop off the vehicle. 

  
  


It is just as expected by everybody; they would rent a transient for one night, munch on the food Mingi bought, paint their nails, play guitars, and sing their hearts out till their throats hurt. 

  
  


However, Yunho tears those pictures in their heads as he walks through an alley and past two houses, stomping on dirt and allowing the leafless trees to welcome him.

  
  


Although clouded with hesitations, the rest of the band follows his steps.

  
  


Seonghwa feels as if the breeze has suddenly gone colder by the time he steps foot into the trees, but he can easily nevermind it if what’s before him is rather breath-taking.

  
  


The ground is damp from the late winter, sometimes covered with corpses of fallen leaves. Striped by the moonlight they had left behind, shards glimmer along their path; Seonghwa would like to think they are specks of fairy dust, leading them to Neverland.

  
  


“Well, that’s weird,” Yunho comments out of nowhere. Curious, Seonghwa looks up from his feet and then ahead of him.

  
  


They have apparently found a place amidst the grove along the streets. The whispers of the trees say there used to be a house standing there - now destructed and had left a patch on the grassland.

  
  


Now, the so-called Neverland appears as a skatepark, which is a tricky thing because - who thinks it would be perfect to erect such a skatepark right there, hidden within the trees and their late winter gossips, far away from the knowledge of the living?

  
  


That must be why it is now abandoned. A new place for the moss to grow on. And a new hideout for the band, probably.

  
  


“This is perfect!” 

  
  


Yunho juts his lower lip out satisfyingly when Yeosang yelps in alacrity and then basically scrambles all the way over to the park, to the top of the curve where he lays his beloved best friend, the Skateboard. Later, with feet flat on the deck and his clothes and his hair coolly whipping to the back, the wheels roll and roar down the curve. Then over the other end, he flies and pivots back down - a perfect parabola.

  
  


“KANG YEOSANG!” Mingi is the first to cheer with hands cupped around his mouth. The rest of them joins eventually, gathering just outside the vert ramp all the while shooting acclaims at the skater boy that is their friend, non-stop.

  
  


The scene before their eyes appears as a silver lining - a reminder that they can now move - or roll - past the chaos that has ensued all throughout their drive, because they are here now in a place entirely unknown, yet that cannot change the fact that they are here to have fun, most of all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I really thought the cabin I saw from GoogIe Maps would still be here. Now we’re freezing and stuck in a skatepark. I’m sorry,” Yunho apologizes all the while hugging himself and rubbing his arms. He would sometimes hover his hands above the makeshift fire they had managed to build in the empty water drum Mingi had found someplace and out of broken twigs, failed exams that they had hidden in their bags, and Hongjoong’s lighter. It’s not enough for all eight of them, but Seonghwa finds no use to complain when it’s all they have and all they could do.

  
  


Ergo they simply sit together by one end of the ramp, Seonghwa perched on the deck and legs hanging by the coping. On the flat-bottom or the center of the ramp is where Yeosang is, offering his arms to be held onto by Jongho, who seems very fervent on learning the board. Seonghwa remembers this is exactly what Yeosang plans to do for the first-time - teach someone how to ride the board - and his student turns out to be Jongho.

  
  


“This is heaven to me!” Yeosang shouts from a safe distance, neverminding Yunho’s apology. So then the latter smiles, cheekbones accentuated by the warm light of the fire.

  
  


“We don’t need roofs to have fun,” Hongjoong adds, “I like this place. Scary, but nice.”

  
  


To that, Seonghwa agrees. Sure, they are probably in the middle of a leafless grove of trees, sitting below a cloudy night sky; it is freezing like hell in reverse, and their only sources of light are the moon and the fire. Seonghwa would have to thank God he is not alone; otherwise, he would be imagining a sinister film in his head right now, and that would not be very helpful. 

  
  


However, despite all of the mentioned, the place feels and seems cozy in odd ways. Perhaps, it is because of the thought that they are practically in an abandoned place, far from home, and where no one but only them know each other - or maybe it is because Yeosang and Jongho are having fun, smiling widely and happily even if the latter keeps on tripping and falling; Mingi is munching on the chips he had bought and shares it with San; Yunho is helping Wooyoung paint his nails; Hongjoong is silently playing his electric guitar, and every now and then, he would type something on his phone.

  
  


Seonghwa does not need an internal debate with himself anymore. He knows this place uniquely feels like home much because of the latter.

  
  


From above, he watches Hongjoong suddenly stand up, a hand wrapped around the neck of his pink guitar. Then he flinches, alert, when he sees him abruptly climbing up the transition, struggling to get to the top where Seonghwa sits, only for his tiny feet to slide back down.

  
  


Hongjoong frustratedly yells and groans, and Seonghwa chuckles. He finds this very amusing - a whole comedy show before him.

  
  


“If you would just help me!” The red-haired grunts and pretends to throw the instrument at Seonghwa, but the latter knows he would not do that (yet he flinches just in case).

  
  


“You know you’d have to go back around and climb up like I did,” Seonghwa suggests. Actually, he isn’t planning to say that until later as he is enjoying too much watching Hongjoong and his short legs suffer. But he refrains to become far too evil.

  
  


Seconds later and Hongjoong arrives and plops down right next to Seonghwa. He hands him the guitar and carefully places it on his lap, but the very first thing to catch Seonghwa’s eyes since the arrival is the prominent piercing on his navel. It glimmers when light hits it as if it were indeed begging for his attention, and Seonghwa cannot help but give what it wants. 

  
  


“Can you  _ stop  _ staring at my piercing?” Hongjoong says, a finger on Seonghwa’s chin to raise his head a bit, so Seonghwa has no other choice but to oblige and look up to the other’s eyes.

  
  


“It’s just that- I thought-” He fishes for any alibis in the pockets of his brain. May it be very random and may it sound stupid - whatever it could be, he simply needs to excuse himself out of this.

  
  


And then he realizes how much exposed Hongjoong is to the cold. All throughout the night, he has been wearing this cropped polo, hanging by his shoulders and leaving his abdomen revealed. 

  
  


Seonghwa’s first instinct is to peel his gray blazers off him and then to gently throw it at the other boy.

  
  


Hongjoong stares at him.

  
  


Seonghwa raises an eyebrow.

  
  


That is the cue for Hongjoong to burst out laughing. 

  
  


“Acting like a  _ tsundere,  _ are we?” Hongjoong remarks, and it may be sounding like he was declining the offer, but in the end, he actually puts it on himself, completely wrapping his tiny body with it, and leaving its long sleeves hanging by his fingertips. There is a sheepish smile on his face as he flails the overlength sleeves around; it’s too adorable of a sight that Seonghwa has to quickly look away before he combusts right then and there.

  
  


“I just thought you’d be cold.”

  
  


“Oh, you don’t have to explain yourself,  _ gentleman _ ,” Hongjoong sings and teases, “So? Play it,” he urges then, nodding towards the instrument quietly lying down on Seonghwa’s lap. 

  
  


Hesitant, Seonghwa wraps his arms around the guitar and his fingertips press on the strings. “Is this how you normally teach? Ordering them around to ‘play it’ like they magically already know how?”

  
  


Hongjoong playfully rolls his eyes. “Like I said, this is my first time to teach. And you already know how. We just have to refresh your memories. Just play something you’re very familiar with - a favorite song, maybe?”

  
  


_ A favorite song.  _ Seonghwa takes a second to think about that. Indeed, it has been years since the last time he had touched his guitar, leaving it silently standing in the corner of his room, covered with dust, strings rusty and sharp - that when he places his fingers on these strings, he’s prickled, and a weird, sensational feeling strikes him. He later decides to simply name it nostalgia.

  
  


The very first song, however, that has popped into his mind is probably the very first song Hongjoong saw and heard him play on the guitar - Come As You Are by Nirvana. 

  
  


He presses a finger on the fret - and it hurts - the rest of his fingers on the strings. Then he sweeps through

  
  


...and it sounds broken.

  
  


“ _ Yup.  _ That’s it. I can’t play and I’m leaving the band the same night I joined.”

  
  


Seonghwa struggles to give the guitar back to its owner, but Hongjoong keeps pushing it towards him. In the end, he has no other choice but to keep the instrument lying on his lap, and he decides he would never _ever_ commit a mortal sin and touch it again.

  
  


“Hey, hey. You’re being overdramatic,” Hongjoong laughs, “I think you’re just feeling pressured by the past. Sure, you were - well, I’m forced to admit that - you were a great guitarist back then, but change is constant! Things may happen, and we may forget things. You just… have to live in the  _ now. _ ”

  
  


That is probably the most cliche thing Seonghwa has ever heard, but he has to admit that is exactly the thing he has to hear the most. Strangely, hearing it from Hongjoong himself has a  _ different  _ impact on him, because later, he finds himself hugging the guitar and trying one more time. Hongjoong appears to be so satisfied at this sight; he sits there with an encouraging smile on his face.

  
  


Once again, Seonghwa attempts to press a finger on the fret, the other on the rest of the strings. 

  
  


“Press them harder,” Hongjoong orders as he watches from Seonghwa’s side.

  
  


“But it  _ hurts _ ,” Seonghwa whines and complains like a baby, erupting laughter out of Hongjoong’s chest.

  
  


“It’s every guitarist’s struggle. You just get used to the pain, and you’ll fall in love with it before you know it.”

  
  


“You are literally a masochist,” Seonghwa finally admits what he genuinely thinks of Hongjoong ever since tonight’s ride. Fortunately, they simply chuckle it off, and Seonghwa proceeds on trying the very first chord he would have to play after such a long time.

  
  


Wrinkling the bridge of his nose and hoping that would ease the pain throbbing across his fingertips, he strums through the strings a second later.

  
  


They sound soft, given that he’s presently playing an unamplified electric guitar;

  
  


But they sound nice.

  
  


_ Really  _ nice.

  
  


And Seonghwa has never felt more alive until tonight.

  
  


“Hey, that’s good!” Hongjoong compliments, and Seonghwa smiles. He might be overexaggerating this situation, but he actually thinks it is rather a miracle. Perhaps, he has felt utterly hopeless for the past few years, believing the red string he has had with guitars has completely tangled and ripped, that  _ now  _ is… just shocking to him. That one strum - that single note has sparked a fire in his musician’s heart, and Seonghwa feels too exhilarated over it that he wants to keep it burning.

  
  


Therefore, he keeps on playing. A chord after chord. A strum after strum. He keeps on playing from memory and laughs with Hongjoong over a few mistakes he makes. Sometimes, Hongjoong would help him remember how to play a certain chord he had long forgotten, holding onto his hand and placing his fingers right on where they should be. Then Seonghwa would thank him, and Hongjoong would joke: “How could you forget a chord if you were the greatest guitarist in our school before?”

  
  


The sound coming from the pink electric guitar is soft, but it’s loud enough to make Seonghwa’s heart beat faster and loud enough to tear down the terrifying pictures he has had in his head - how he believed he could never play the guitar again without feeling anxious over it, without feeling scared. He is playing now, and he has never felt better, and he can’t recall what was even there he was so terrified of any longer.

  
  


Perhaps, he would have to thank Hongjoong for this - for making it a fun experience for him, rather than a petrifying one. Just having the red-haired boy there by his side, giving him words of encouragement and constantly challenging him with every chance he gets, and most of all, for trying to open his book, for gently flipping through his pages, and for reading him when no one else would; Hongjoong might have given Seonghwa a night to remember.

  
  


Seonghwa never ceases in playing with the strings, even plucking on them if he could. His fingertips would still hurt, but as Hongjoong had predicted, he has fallen in love with the pain, has seen it more as a sensational feeling, before he could even realize. 

  
  


“I guess we would not have such a hard time with you then. And you made me think it would take like a month or so before you get the hang of it,” Hongjoong comments while lying down on his back against the cold ground of the deck. 

  
  


“Honestly, I think this is a miracle,” Seonghwa chuckles, still in disbelief he had enjoyed playing the guitar when he had always thought that, after everything, how it made him feel would never change for the better any longer. He’s glad tonight has proven him wrong. 

  
  


“Thanks to me?” Hongjoong playfully says, followed by a soft giggle.

  
  


Then Seonghwa watches him fish through the pockets of his jeans. A second later, he sees a lighter and a box of cigarettes in his hands. Tapping the box, he takes out a stick and gently places it between his lips. In a flick, it’s caught on fire, the end of it burning, and smoke smoothly crawls out of Hongjoong’s mouth.

  
  


Seonghwa tries his best to keep his mind off…  _ certain things  _ \- things such as Hongjoong’s lips and how  _ tempting  _ they seem with curls of smoke overflowing out of it. He tries his best not to-

  
  


_ To yank Hongjoong back up, grab his face, and kiss him right here, right now. _

  
  


Don’t worry. Seonghwa is  _ really  _ trying his best not to do the aforementioned, so his hands are gripping tightly around the neck of the guitar, not minding how worse it feels than simply pressing his fingers on the strings.

  
  


“What? You smoke?”

  
  


Hongjoong must have noticed Seonghwa has been staring, and he must have thought he should ask him out of courtesy, so maybe he could offer him a stick or two.

  
  


The problem is Seonghwa doesn’t, and he has never tried. But curiosity is a dangerous thing.

  
  


“I don’t. Is it nice?”

  
  


Hongjoong shrugs his shoulders then, plucking the stick out of his mouth for a while to watch its end burn. “Keeps me warm. You wanna try?”

  
  


_ Maybe if he smoked his cigarette, he would be able to taste his lips. _

  
  


Seonghwa does not give himself any more time to think. Later, he finds himself grabbing the stick from Hongjoong’s fingers and placing it between his own lips. Then he takes a drag. There is a weird taste on his tongue, and he can practically feel the back of his throat burn. Terrified, he quickly pulls it out and coughs the smoke away. 

  
  


Yup. He’s never trying that again. He only learns one thing from that:

  
  


_ It tastes like shit;  _ Seonghwa only pretends he’s smoking strawberries because that’s what he thinks Hongjoong’s lips would taste like.

  
  


The other laughs at him as expected, sitting back upright and gently patting him on the back. “Yeah, I’m never letting you near this again.” With that, Hongjoong rubs the burning end against the ground, putting off the fire before throwing it far away from where their eyes could see. 

  
  


“I gave you my coat already; how are you still cold you had to smoke?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely curious about this.

  
  


“I’m easily cold!” Hongjoong responds in a form of a whine, all the while hastily rubbing his hands against his arms. “We’d have to rent a place to stay at soon, or we could just go home.”

  
  


“I don’t wanna go home.”

  
  


Just as when the words leave Seonghwa’s mouth is at the same time he is surprised at himself. Since when does he think so out loud? Since when does he speak his honest thoughts? Usually, he would have to go for whatever’s decided, albeit what he truly feels about it. 

  
  


However, his desire to simply stay here forever - in a place he would like to call their Neverland, in a place where he is unknown and where he is not whoever he has grown to be - his strong desire to just live here and to never go back home roars louder than any other. 

  
  


Because he has never felt more like himself until he has arrived in this place, and he is afraid that once they are back in Seoul, he would have to fall back to square one.

  
  


“Eh, if you had some money in you, we could rent a place here to sleep over at.”

  
  


“I don’t,” Seonghwa quickly says, honest.

  
  


“We can’t sleep right here, can we?” 

  
  


“We can’t.”

  
  


Eventually, Seonghwa learns and has come to accept that at the end of the day, they would have to go back to the place they are forced to call their home, and that every spark of joy burns brightly and dies sorrowfully. 

  
  


He hears Hongjoong sigh as the latter leans forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Is Seoul really a bad place for you?” Hongjoong queries, curiosity evident in the colors of his eyes.

  
  


It’s just  _ one  _ question - just  _ one  _ of the many keys to his very own Pandora’s box - and Seonghwa already feels like closing his eyes shut and breaking down right then and there. Suddenly, his grip around the guitar’s neck feels more painful than it already is that he lets it go and hands it back to its owner. 

  
  


“It is,” Seonghwa finally confesses, because he can’t seem to find any reason why he should lie about it.

  
  


“Then why stay?”

  
  


Seonghwa scoffs over the question he finds absurd.  _ If he could leave, he would. _ Presently, he can’t, and there is always a perfect timing for everything.

  
  


“Once I graduate high school, I’ll leave this place.”

  
  


It is something that he has perfectly carved on a stone. Both his mind and heart are set on it: he will leave. That’s it. Nothing more and nothing less. Because there is nothing much left in him that he could possibly see as a reason for him to stay. Everything else is urging him to run away from the city he sees nothing but a shithole.

  
  


“Oh,” Hongjoong hums softly, nodding and understanding, “Then I hope in these last three months of high school, may you find at least one good reason why Seoul is not as bad as you think it is.”

  
  


_ Seonghwa hopes so, too. _

  
  


That must be why he is interested in this band at the beginning of it all. That must be another reason why he tried to assess them for himself first, to see if he would fit in, to see if there would be a place here reserved for him. 

  
  


And that must be another reason why he joined. Despite the strong feeling lurking in his heart that screams at him to leave this place as soon as he can, there is always that tiny voice, singing to him and begging for him to at least  _ find  _ something that could make him stay even for just a day. 

  
  


It’s the same tiny voice that has made him believe that joining this band of friends and attempting to play the guitar once again after such a long time - they might not be such a bad idea at all. 

  
  


And he is beginning to think that that voice - it’s never wrong.

  
  


So, Seonghwa smiles, small and quite relieved. 

  
  


Then he says, “I think I’m starting to see it, anyway.”

  
  


By that, Hongjoong already knows what he meant, and Seonghwa could tell just by the sudden bright smile across his face, his eyes wrinkling and mocking crescents of the moon. 

  
  


It’s a beautiful sight, by the way, and Seonghwa might just add that to the list of reasons on why he should stay. He would love to see that every single day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AAA it's been so long once again ive been really busy with school and stuff T_T  
> ALSO if you hadnt noticed, band ateez account is restricted ONCE AGAIN. so for now, i announce the chapter updates via [my twitter account](https://twitter.com/atzgust) and i'll just reupload everything once we get the account back T_T  
> and this chapter is still unbetad i'll reupload the betad version soon~
> 
> check out the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4JAJdTyy6nBaYYiOR76emW) if u havent~


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